


Crawl Out Through The Fallout

by AcerbusHicFuit



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Addiction, Bad Puns, Bisexual Male Sole Survivor, Dad Jokes, M/M, Pining, Psycho (chem), Slow Burn, Slow to Update sometimes, So Many Dad Jokes, possible trigger, themes of mental illness, you have been warned boi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:14:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 76,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25241494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcerbusHicFuit/pseuds/AcerbusHicFuit
Summary: Henry Frederickson's life was perfect; he had a wife, a son, a personal robot butler. All that came to a crashing halt when the bombs fell in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, and his wife was killed in the Vault that was supposed to protect them. Now he's alone, in the radioactive hell that he used to call his home, to look for his son, but it's going to be a lot more complicated than a simple rescue mission.If only it were that simple.
Relationships: Paladin Danse/Male Sole Survivor
Comments: 23
Kudos: 32





	1. Crawl Out Into The Fallout

**Author's Note:**

> Oooof I'm doing another one. I SWEAR I haven't forgotten the Skyrim fic, I'm getting back into that soon. I just needed a side project so I can keep motivated. We'll see. Uh, probably gonna be slow to update as well, just getting that out of the way now. You have been warned, children.
> 
> (also chapter titles are going to be puns of nuclear war songs because I love them)

  
  


Henry must have run that comb through his gelled hair for the hundredth time when his wife called him out on his tedious styling.

“Honey, you look great. Really. Now can you please stop hogging the mirror? I need to get ready.” He snorted a little laugh, set the comb down onto the sink, and turned to look at Nora, who still had a towel wrapped around her hair. 

“What’s the magic word?” he sang. Nora playfully smacked him as she came up to the mirror. 

“Get outta my way, soldier boy!” He snickered, and he kicked off from the sink. “Codsworth has your coffee ready for you.” He gave her an “okay,” and he sauntered out of the bathroom with a smile on his face to greet Codsworth. 

The Mr. Handy was by the kitchen counter, busying himself with the coffee pot. One of his eyes swiveled around to look at his master, and he waved his only free arm. 

“Top of the morning, sir!” He swiped Henry’s favorite mug off the counter and held it up to him. “Your coffee; 173.5 degrees Fahrenheit, no cream nor sugar, brewed to perfection!” Henry grinned at him and took the coffee from his claw. 

“Thanks, Codsworth.” 

Before the robot could reply, the cry of Henry’s infant rang out from the nursery. 

“Ah! Sounds like someone needs a change!” he declared, and he propelled himself toward the baby’s room. “I’ll be there for you, young Shaun!” Henry leaned against the counter to watch as Nora and Codsworth bypassed each other in the hall. When Codsworth disappeared into Shaun’s nursery, Nora sighed and came to join Henry in the kitchen for her coffee. 

“You know, I was pretty nervous at first, but… Codsworth is really good with Shaun. I’m glad I listened to you.” Henry smirked and nudged her when she leaned onto the counter.

“I have my charm, if not my looks.”

“What do you mean, _if_?” They laughed, and Henry sipped at his coffee. “Are you nervous, hon?” He shrugged. 

“Nervous? Me? Pfft. Never.” Nora raised a brow and leaned on him. 

“Your face is red, you pale Kraut. I can read you like a book.” He scoffed.

“Eh. It’s just a short speech. Nothin’ to worry about.” She eyed the bullet scar on his weak shoulder.

“You know how those old veterans are about soldiers who get discharged early...” Henry snorted. 

“Well, I bet none of them killed fifteen commies with a combat knife in Alaska, _with_ an injured shoulder, might I add!” 

“Just try not to get _too_ into it. Please?” He patted her shoulder. 

“So long as they don’t start anything with me first.” Nora groaned and dropped her head down onto the counter. 

“You’re a wreck, Henry Frederickson.” Nora stood up from the counter to turn the TV on, just as Shaun started to cry again. “Why don’t you go see if Codsworth needs help, huh?” Henry hummed and shrugged, and he started on back to the nursery to run into Codsworth.

“My apologies, sir. Shaun has been changed, but he absolutely refuses to calm down…” Henry gave the robot a pat on his metal outer shell with a grin. 

“No worries, Codsy. Hold down the fort with the missus for me, would you?” Codsworth gave him his acknowledgement and went floating back towards the living room, leaving the nursery free for Henry to enter. He stepped up to the side of the crib to see the baby squirm in his sheets, and he leaned onto the railing to wave his fingers over his face. “Hey, buddy.” 

The baby, having stopped his crying, cooed and rolled on the mattress as Henry played with him. 

“That’s my boy.” The door squeaked a little, and Henry glanced over just as Nora came in. 

“How’re the two most important men of my life doing?” She positioned herself at Henry’s side by the crib and pressed herself up against his shoulder. “Aw, much better now, eh?” She huffed. “You always were better with him than me…” She stood up and looked to her husband. “You know, I saw a commercial on the TV; they just reopened that park over in Boston. You wanna head over there for lunch, after the veterans hall?” 

Henry smiled at her and looped an arm around her shoulders.

“Sure. Make a day out of it.” 

“Sir, Mum… You may want to see this!” The two went rigid at Codsworth’s wary call. 

“Codsworth? What’s wrong?” Henry went trotting out of the nursery to ask Codsworth what was wrong, but he was rendered silent when he heard the TV. 

_“We have confirmed reports, I repeat, confirmed reports of… nuclear detonations in New York and Pennsylvania…”_ Nora slipped into the living room, Shaun in her arms. 

“Henry?” Henry ignored her, took a deep breath to collect himself, and dashed back into the master bedroom. “Henry! What-”

“We need to get to the Vault. Now.” He ripped the closet open, grabbed up the suitcase, and started throwing random clothes into there. Nora lingered by the door, a wailing Shaun in her arms. The air-raid horns started to blare outside. 

“Honey-” Henry finished packing his clothes and threw the suitcase onto the bed. 

“Pack your shit, right now.” He knelt down at the side of the bedframe and rummaged around under it for his guncase. 

“Henry!”

_“Pack the fucking bag, Nora!”_ He could hear her sobbing over Shaun’s crying, but ignored her, for he found his ten millimeter. He discarded the case and shoved the pistol into his pants, then glared back up at Nora. She was still standing there, sobbing into her infant’s swaddle. Henry growled, vaulted the bed, grabbed a few of her dresses, and threw them into the suitcase. He zipped it shut, grabbed it up, and ran out to the living room for Codsworth, who still lingered by the television. “Codsworth, get in the basement. They’re not gonna let you into the Vault.” Codsworth gave him a bob of his arms, his back still to his master, and he turned to leave for the cellar door. 

Henry bolted out into the street, the smell of blood and pine tar coming back to him from the sirens. He shook his head until his cap went crooked, and tore down the road, Nora just on his heels, Shaun still screaming. The neighbors were on their way to the Vault as well, crowding and running and hollering over the sirens.

Some of them were shrieking about what to pack, others just ditched their things and ran. Henry weaved in and out of the crowd and bolted up the hill at the edge of the cul-de-sac. The distant growling of helicopters rumbled in the distance, and a few military vehicles came skirting into the neighborhood from Concord.

A handful of Vault-Tec employees along the street were directing civilians up to the gate before the Vault Site. Henry followed them until he hit the fence. There was a soldier, as well as a representative, who were barely able to hold back the people trying to get in. Henry tried to shove his way through to the guards, but had no luck, so he grabbed his gun out of his pants, raised it to the air, and fired. The whole crowd went silent. 

Henry sheathed his gun and strode up to the front of the line. 

“Let me in! I’m on that list, I served!” The representative, still gobsmacked by the outburst, quickly scanned over his notes. 

“Y-you’re Frederickson-”

“Yes!” The rep nodded vigorously and pointed to the crest of the hill. 

“Up there, to the platform!” 

Henry squeezed past him and the guard, one hand on his suitcase handle, the other around Nora’s arm, and he ran up to where there was a platform. A number of Henry’s neighbors were already there, and a warning alarm was already going. Another representative pointed to it with a shout. Henry practically fell upon it, and he let out a sigh as the platform began to descend. 

Then came the flash. He gazed up at the sky, and to his horror, there was a bright light alongside the sun coming down in the southwest. He knew that light well, and he shielded Nora and Shaun just as the light burst and lit up the whole state. The platform dipped below the ground’s edge just as the shockwave came over.. 

The elevator went dark, then, and silent, save for whimpering of the people aboard and Shaun’s crying. 

The shaft soon lit up again. Henry straightened his cap as the elevator came to a halt in a chamber, metallic, cold, and bright. A number of men and women in white coats lingered just a few strides away from the elevator. The residents stepped out of the shaft to be greeted and handed blue jumpsuits, then were directed towards a room further in. 

Henry stripped down to pull the suit on, a little skeptical, but careless, and stowed his clothes into his suitcase, only to have it taken from him by one of those in a coat. She pointed down the hall with a smile. 

“I’ll take this, dear. Head on down to the decontamination chamber, and you’ll get this back soon.” Henry gave her a nod and a shaky smile, and wordlessly followed her direction. The chamber she mentioned was lined with various containers, each taller and broader than a man who stood upright. Yet another representative pointed to one at the very end. 

Henry nodded, and he hauled himself up inside. Nora and Shaun weren’t long after him, and they entered one just across the chamber from him. A few minutes went by. Each neighbor was dressed, directed, and taken into the chambers, when the last finally loaded up, the chambers closed. 

“The pod will decontaminate and depressurize you before we head deeper in. Just relax.” The voice of the doctor who spoke to the residents wasn’t much of a comfort, but Henry didn’t care as much about that as much as he cared about how bloody cold it was in that pod. 

A shiver rippled through him. “Time for a whole new life…”

_Resident secure_ . _Occupant vitals: Normal._ Henry took a deep breath. _Procedure Complete… in 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…_

Henry’s vision went white. 

Then it faded back to the chamber in front of him. His muscles were locked up, his sight bleary. He couldn’t speak or move to ask if it was over.

_Manual override initiated. Cryogenic stasis suspended._

A few figures came into few, one in leather, and one in a white coat. The one in white pointed to Nora’s pod. Henry squinted and tried to focus, but couldn’t. 

“This is the one, here.” The man in leather folded his arms. 

“Open it.” The woman in white opened the pod, and out came Nora’s coughing and Shaun’s harrowing cry.

“Is it over? Are we okay?” Nora sputtered. The man in leather watched as the woman in white held her arms out to Nora, as if to catch her if she fell. 

“Almost. Everything’s gonna be fine, ma’am.”

The woman in white reached up and gripped Shaun. Henry’s heart leaped into his throat.

Nora weakly struggled and protested to keep Shaun in her grip. The man in leather reached for the gun holstered at his side and aimed it at Nora’s forehead. 

“Let the boy go. I’m only gonna tell ya once.” 

Nora howled, “I’m not giving you Shaun!” The gun fired. Nora’s blown head flew back against the cushion of the pod. The woman uttered something to the man, then took Shaun, and closed the pod. 

“Goddammit!” the man snarled, and he strode over to Henry’s pod to peer in. “At least we still have the backup…”

Henry writhed and swore, but he couldn’t find the strength to find a way to open the door, and he soon heard the hissing of the chamber again. 

His eyes flew open. He gasped and coughed, his lungs deprived of air. The cold no longer stopped him, the soldier’s instinct kicking in, and he forced himself to beat on the glass. He thrashed and kicked and howled, and finally the door cracked. 

_Critical failure in cryogenic array. All Vault residents must vacate immediately._

The door opened. Before Henry could find his balance, his legs buckled, and he collapsed out onto the floor with a wheeze. He took a good, long moment to breathe before he rose up to his knees to look around. His vision was still a bit blurry, but he could see the water on the floor and the mold on the walls. He then gazed up at Nora’s pod. He drew in a sharp breath, jumped up, and fell against Nora’s pod.

He couldn’t look at her face; not that he’d recognize her, anyway. Just one glance was all it took to make him sick. He swallowed down the urge to vomit and cry, and he forced himself to stand on his own. 

The Vault was freezing, and he rubbed his arms vigorously to keep warm. As he drew out of the chamber, he noted a number of chilling remains were strewn about the halls; human bones, some still clothed. 

He gazed down some of the halls that contained those pods, then hobbled down one of them to look inside. Each pod had a status on the occupant, and each and every one stated that they were deceased. He wanted to search for his clothes, but found many of the closed doors were locked tight, and he didn’t find his suitcase in any of the chambers. He wandered back out into the main hall, back towards the elevator. It grew warmer as he drew closer to the exit.

He eventually found his way back at the control center, and he mashed the button that would open the Vault, only to be scolded by the computer. Its voice was hazy, but he could make out a term; Pip-Boy.

He needed a damned Pip-Boy to activate the elevator. _A very expensive, military-grade Pip-Boy that he hadn’t held since his deployment._

He swore, and he went to leave the lift to look for what he needed, only to trip on a skeleton he’d blotted in his shock. Looking down at it with a frown, he kicked the skeleton with a roar, and went to smash the skull under his boot, only to pause when a glimmer caught his eye. 

He knelt by the desecrated arm and tore away the rotted sleeve of the corpse’s coat to find a dark-screened Pip-Boy attached to its arm. Unable to believe his dumb luck, he ripped it off the corpse’s hand and brought it back over to the control panel. Having noticed the little hole by the button, he turned it on, pulled the prong out of the device, and plugged it in, then pressed the button. 

The alarms blared once more. 

_Vault door cycling sequence initiated. Please, stand back._

Henry gazed over at the Vault’s door, shaped like a gear. It pressed itself out of its frame and rolled to the side with a loud squeal to reveal the elevator. He stepped up to it just as its safety gate opened, then entered the shaft. 

  
  
  



	2. Cities in Dust

He still couldn’t believe what he was seeing of God’s once green Earth as he spectated from the top of the hill. The grass wasn’t green anymore, but grey and dead. The trees around the crest were hollow and ashen. The sky itself was clouded and discolored with some kind of vog. In the far distance, he could see the skyscrapers of Boston leaning against the grimy atmosphere.

He found the will to move, and he went striding down the path toward Sanctuary, figuring he would search there first for signs of his boy. When he hit the cul-de-sac’s street, he was met with cracks and dry, broken pipes sticking up out of the blacktop. The houses lining the road where in shambles, their metal frames rusted and on the verge of collapse. The streetlamps, for the most part, were down, along with the trees and powerlines throughout the neighborhood. 

When he hit his address, he expected nothing but the same as the rest of the neighborhood. Henry was pleasantly surprised to see it was in better shape than the rest, though the roof was caving in a bit and the windows were blown out completely. He took a deep breath and went to step in, only go rigid when he heard a humming. 

It was coming from the back yard. 

He silently circled around the house, through the garage and along the ruined car, to round the corner at the back of the home. A Mr. Handy was toiling around in the dead garden, singing to himself some old European song. 

“Codsworth?”

If a robot could startle, Codsworth startled, for he jumped up from the ground and readied his saw. 

“Who goes the-” He then paused, lowered his tool arm, and lingered there in the air by the flowerbed. “Mister… Mister Henry?” Henry went jogging over to meet him. 

“Codsworth, you’re…” The household unit wasn’t shiny anymore, but rusty and dull, which was likely the most unsettling discovery to Henry thus far, for Codsworth polished himself every week. He was dented, and one of his arms was a bit stiff and crooked.

“As I live and breathe! It’s really you, sir!”

“Codsy, what happened… to the world? I can’t even...” Codsworth let out an automated cough, as if to clear his throat.

“The world, sir? Well, besides our geraniums being the envy of Sanctuary Hills, I’m afraid things have been dreadfully dull around here.” He clacked his claws together in a clap. “Oh, things will be so much more exciting with you and the missus back! Where is your better half, by the by?”

Henry’s gut lurched again, and he rubbed the back of his neck with a huff. 

“I… Some men came into the Vault, shot her, and took Shaun. Maybe you saw them? They were armed, but they weren’t soldiers, and wore weird clothes.” Codsworth was silent, only to begin again with his usual cheeriness. 

“Sir, these awful things you’re saying. Hm, I believe you need a distraction.” He laughed heartily. “Yes, a distraction, to calm your dire mood. It’s been literal ages since we’ve had a proper family activity. Checkers? Or perhaps charades? Oh, Shaun does so love that game!” He paused again. “Is he… is the lad with you, sir?” 

“Codsworth, listen to me and think  _ carefully _ . I don’t have Shaun. Have you seen him, or anyone who might have him?” Codsworth mumbled to himself in thought before he came back up with his delusions again. 

“Why, the missus had him last, remember? Perhaps she’s gone to the Parker residence to arrange a play-date? I’m sure she’ll be back with him momentarily.” Henry’s face reddened. 

“Codsworth, don’t you get it? They are gone! Nora is dead, someone stole my son… I’m the only one that got out of that damned Vault!” He regretted his outburst as soon as it came out of his mouth, and he mumbled an apology after he calmed himself. Codsworth shrunk back, but rose back up again with a gently raised claw. 

“Oh, it’s worse than I thought. You’re suffering from hunger-induced paranoia… Not eating properly in 200 years will do that, I’m afraid.” Henry’s skin went cold and his eyes widened.

“Did you say… _Two hundred_ _years_?”

“My mistake, sir. ‘Twould be a bit over 210, actually. Give or take a little for the Earth’s rotation and few dings to the old chronometer.” He chuckled. “That means you're two centuries late for dinner! Perhaps I can whip you up a snack? You must be famished.” Henry raised a brow in an expectant glance. 

“You’re acting a little off, Codsy. Are you okay?” Codsworth’s glassy eyes flickered in their lenses, and he fought for a moment to speak.    
  


“I… I…” He threw his claws up in the air and grabbed his master’s arms. “Oh, sir, it’s been horrible! Two centuries alone, with no one to serve nor talk to! I spent the first ten  _ years _ trying to wax the floors, but nothing gets nuclear fallout out of vinyl wood! Nothing!” He then gestured up to the house. “And don’t get me started on the futility of trying to dust a ruined house… And the car! Your precious car! How am I supposed to polish  _ rust _ ?” Henry, unable to stay angry at such an innocent soul, gave Codsworth a good pat on the metal shell.

“Stay with me, Codsy.” He sighed. “Let’s get in the house so we can talk, alright?” Codsworth whimpered and guided the two of them inside. Henry eased himself down at the kitchen island while Codsworth busied himself looking through the pantry. “Do you know anything that can help me get to Shaun?”

“I’m afraid I know nothing, sir. The bombs came, and you all left in such a hurry. I feared for certain you and your family were all…  _ dead _ . All I’ve had here are bloated flies and occasional hoodlums, but no one headed up towards the Vault.” Codsworth’s voice was still pained, but clearer than before. “I… I did find something for you, sir, after the bombs fell.” He rose up from the cabinet with a holotape in one of his claws, and he set it down onto the counter. “I believe the missus was going to present it to you as a surprise, but… everything happened.” Henry gingerly picked it up from the counter, as if it were made of glass, and he looked over it. “If you’d like to play it, that Pip-Boy on your arm would work brilliantly.” 

Henry forced himself to smile at the sweet butler, and he slid it to the side for later.

“Thanks, Codsy.” Codsworth squeaked a little, a glitch in his audio, and he tapped the counter with his saw. 

“Enough feeling sorry for myself, sir… Shall we search the neighborhood?” Henry shook his head. 

“No… Shaun’s not gonna be here, I know that.” He rubbed his forehead. “I feel sick…” Codsworth pointed to the hallway. 

“Water still runs here occasionally, sir, should you need your facilities.” Henry nodded and gave Codsworth a thumbs-up before he stood to shuffle to the bathroom. He hugged the moldy toilet bowl like it was the only thing that ever loved him as he wept and vomited profusely. The heaving and sobbing didn’t stop for what felt like hours. The toilet didn’t flush. He eventually rose up, and forced himself to look in the mirror that dear Codsworth had cleaned before his arrival. 

His sandy blond hair wasn’t quite gelled like it was before, windblown and unkempt. His milk-white skin, still pale from his shock and sickness, was stark against his locks and the puffiness of his bloodshot eyes. He wiped his face with the little bit of water he could scrounge from the faucet and smoothed his hair back, then looked down at his jumpsuit with a scowl. 

First thing to be done was get out of that ridiculous outfit. 

Unfortunately, it seemed his dresser was picked clean, save for a single, questionably stained wife beater and a pair of shredded jeans that weren’t even his.

Henry didn’t care much at that point; he just had to get the symbol of the Vault off of him. He drew back out into the living room after changing his clothes and slumped down onto the couch. Codsworth joined him at his side and gave him a pat on the shoulder. 

“Don’t worry, sir. You’ll find the boy, I’m sure of it.” Henry nodded absently. 

“Where do I go from here? Is there even any government or people left up here?”

“I’m afraid there is no government anymore, but Concord is still standing, and there are plenty of people.” Codsworth gestured to the huge dent in his side; that explained the audio glitch. “They’ve only pummeled me with sticks a few times before I’ve had to run home.” Henry huffed. 

“There are still people alive in Concord?”

“Yessir, although they’re a bit rough. You recall the way, correct? Just over the bridge and past the Red Rocket station.” Henry nodded again and leaned back. 

“I’ll… I’ll go tomorrow, I guess.”

“Understood, sir. Shall I make your bed for you?” Henry shook his head. 

“The bed’s ruined, I saw it for myself. I’ll just crash on the couch for a while.” 

“Very well, sir.” Henry just remained on the couch, staring and occasionally humming as Codsworth chattered to him, complaining about the rust and the storms and the raiders. It grew dark outside after a few hours, given it was late afternoon by the time Henry emptied his guts into the out-of-commission toilet bowl. He fell onto his side on the couch, and in spite of the passing of two hundred years that he spent sleeping, he had no problems drifting off. 

When he slipped back into the waking world from a dreamless slumber, he smiled, his eyes still closed. Then he got a whiff of the couch-cushions. He shot upright with a gasp and whipped his head around to stare at the desecrated living room. 

“Is something amiss, sir?” Codsworth’s question made Henry jolt and instinctively reach for his gun, only to realize it was locked away in the Vault with the rest of his belongings. He looked at the unit with eyes glazed and lips agape, his brow furrowed, and he shook his head. 

“No, I’m okay.” Codsworth’s visual receptors bobbed in a nod. 

“If you say so, sir. Shall I prepare you some breakfast? I may have found a working water pump in the neighbor’s yard, if you’re thirsty.” Henry stood up from the couch and stretched. 

“ _ Breakfast? _ ” He was still on auto-pilot, and Codsworth’s words didn’t sink in for a minute. “Yeah, sure.” Codsworth hummed a cheery song as he floated over to the kitchen. 

“I was on my rounds last night about the neighborhood,” he started as he rummaged through the cabinets. “when I found some poor fellow with some things you might want, should you travel to Concord, as we discussed.” Henry leaned against the counter and smoothed his hair back. 

“Like what? Where?”

“He had the nicest little duffle bag and a pistol on his remains, just over in the Callahans’ house, God rest their souls.” Henry gazed out of the broken window towards the Callahan residence. “I brought back what I could for you. It’s just by the fireplace, when you’re ready to leave.” He gave Codsworth a smile. 

“You’re the best.” Codsworth clacked his claw gleefully. 

“Oh, sir, if I had flesh, I’d blush at your words!” He came back up from under the counter with a box, labelled “offal.” Henry tried his best to hide his grimace. “I found some food on him, as well. My receptors say it is safe to eat.” He took it from the unit and examined it. “I can cook it for you, if you like, though I doubt Mr. Handy fuel would taste especially good on pork liver…” Henry sniffed, and he barked out a raspy laugh. “Is it adequate, sir?” 

“It’s… It’s alright, Codsy. It’ll do.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine Henry is super friendly and bubbly, in spite of what goes on in his life following the Vault incident. I dunno. Prepare for dad jokes


	3. Atomic Doggo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N): Henry will not be participating in the battle against the Raiders, nor will he even access the Power Armor to deal with the Deathclaw. The fact he doesn't even know about the armor will drive the plot in another direction, so keep your damned pants on when I divert a little bit, okay? Gotta smooth out some plot shit so the fic flows a little more nicely.

Henry sauntered along the road from Sanctuary Hills, his cap crooked on his head. The clouds had since cleared from the previous day to allow the sun to beat down on him and cook him through his filthy clothing. Even though he hadn't even come across anyone yet, he had a feeling he wouldn't have trouble blending in, judging from the state of what was once the Commonwealth. Codsworth had stayed behind in Sanctuary to watch after the house, per Henry's insistance. That sweet old robot was far from a Mr. Gutsy, and wasn't up for any potential combat of which Henry had been warned. 

As he crossed the footbridge, he heard barking in the distance, just up the street, so he loaded his pistol in preparation for a vicious animal. When he crested the hill, he caught sight of what remained of the Concord truckstop, a red and white shamble of a charging station. A big, burly mutt was tussling with what appeared to be a hairless rat, snarling and biting as the rodent danced around him. 

Henry lingered back to watch the spectacle, half expecting the dog or the rat to mutate like in the old movies. Nothing of the sort happened, but the dog did interrupt the rodent's pattern of dodging and killed it with a swift bite to its neck. When the dog was sure its prey was down and wasn't getting back up, he lifted his head to the ridge and barked. Henry startled and aimed his pistol, the safety off and his finger on the trigger, only to lower it when the dog's tail started wagging. With a shrug, Henry whistled and patted his leg.

The dog came loping over to reveal itself as a glassy-eyed German Shepherd. His ear was nicked and his face was bloody from his most recent battle, but he had no problem practically devouring Henry's hand with kisses. 

"What's a little cutie like you doing out here by yourself?" he murmured as he scratched the dog's ears. "You lose your owner, pal?" The dog cocked his head like a cat and whined when Henry withdrew his hand. "Alright. I could use the company." The dog whuffed, and followed Henry into the station. 

When Henry found no one inside, he started trifling through some of the unlocked containers, including a register with a few bucks and some bottle caps in it. He left the caps and pocketed the bills, then rummaged through the station's supply closet, only to find nothing useful. 

As he searched around the place, he could hear gunfire in the near distance. A stone weighed down in his gut, and he looked out of the back room's broken window to see laser-fire coming out of the dense, widely-spanning Concord. It would take all day to go around, and Henry didn't have that kind of time. He cursed and looked at his dog worriedly. 

"I guess we're gonna have to go through there, huh, boy?" 

As he sifted through the station, he found a chain discarded in the garage, which he used as a makeshift leash for his dog, whom he still had yet to name. Once he was sure he hadn't missed anything, he stepped out of the Red Rocket, looked up and down the street, and started down to Concord. 

The pair drew close to the town's limits, and the dog's hackles went up at a nearby gunshot. Henry ran his hand along the dog's back to soothe him, and carried on into the nearest alley, thankful he recalled the town's layout so well. Thanks to his prior knowledge of the alleys, he was able to bypass most of the main drag until he hit the far edge of the town. 

The gunshots had since become near-deafening from his arrival, and he could hear yelling through it. Some were swears and battle-cries, others were pleads, though Henry couldn't tell where they were coming from through the gunfire. He poked his out to look down the street to see several gunmen firing laser rifles up into Concord's main attraction, the Museum of the American Revolt. 

From the museum's topmost window, a man clad in a light leather jacket was firing with a laser rifle at his attackers. One by one, the gunmen on the street went down, so Henry shuffled out onto the street with his head down. 

"You, down there!" Henry jumped. "You gotta help me! There are raiders in here, and they're almost through the door. I've got unarmed settlers in here with me. You have to help, please!" The dog started barking and pulled against his chain, but Henry held him fast to his belt and charged up to the front door. 

Silent as death, he slipped in, closed the door, and ducked behind a nearby dresser so he could survey the ruin, just as he was taught in boot camp. A few yards in front of him was a set of forked stairs leading to the upper level, and a duo of gunmen were lingering around with their rifles up. The dog growled.

Henry gripped his pistol, shaking, aimed it at the one closest to the foot of the stairs, and fired. The gunman's head exploded, and he went down, leaving his comrade to panic and come tromping over to the door, but he didn't make it far, for another bullet in his chest left him in the dust. Henry shot up from his cover, quickly looked about the rafters for any more attackers, and bolted up to the bodies to search for rounds. He found nothing compatible with his pistol, so he led his dog up to the second floor and rounded the railing, towards the nearest door.

"What the hell was that? The downstairs was clear!"

"Apparently not!" 

Henry jolted when he heard those voices coming down the hall, and he held his gun up in anticipation of more attackers. The two men came into view, and Henry met one with several shots until he went down. The other gunman managed to dodge the bullets and fired two of his own with a rifle. One hit Henry head-on in his leg, and he went down with a cry. The dog, in Henry's brief moment of distraction, broke free of his rusty chain, and he went running to the surviving gunman, past the bullets, and tackled him to the ground with a roar. 

When the gunman went silent from his mauling, Henry forced himself to sit up, and was greeted by his whining mutt, who licked tenderly at the bullet wound. The bullet was lodged deeply in his shin, burning him with a pain he knew all too well. Blood was trickling down his shin and into his boot. Shards of splintered bone were visible through his flesh. Nausea was already setting in, his head already spinning. In the heat of the moment, he recalled what he was supposed to do, and he shooed the dog away before he pulled his belt off and tied it around his thigh, then tore off a scrap of his shredded jeans and stuffed it into the wound. 

He sat there for a while, his injured shin propped up onto his good knee, his hands pressed firmly against the stuffed wound, waiting for the bleeding to be staunched. It took nearly twenty minutes for it to slow down enough for him to stand again, though putting weight on it was excruciating. 

He wasn't bothered by anyone else as he limped along. Only one more gunman came after him as he traversed the top floor in search of a proper materials, but the dog took care of him. When he finally found the door being bombarded by three gunmen, blacking out at that point, he wasn't noticed, so he took aim. 

Three shots were fired, and each hit their marks. Two slammed into the wall, each with a gaping hole in the back of their heads. The third didn't go down immediately, more so slumped as he gasped, for the bullet found its place in his back. The immediate survivor squirmed and gasped, the bullet floating around in his lung. Henry gimped over to put him out of his misery, but before he could, the door swung open and revealed the leather-clad defender, who had been firing through the window. He pulled his rifle up and blasted the writhing gunman in the head to silence him. 

With that threat dealt with, Henry stumbled over to the wall and leaned against it. The dog went running to the defender, barking and whining.

"Hey, are you alright?" the man asked. Henry nodded and snickered.

"I'm alright… You don't happen to have a first aid kit in there, do you, pal?" The defender was wordless, and he came over to loop an arm under Henry's shoulders and guided him into his holdout. A number of other people were in there with him, though Henry was too faint to really pay attention. The man who'd grabbed him set him down onto a couch, lifted his leg up onto the cushions, and called out to the others. 

"Somebody get him gauze and a stim, now!" 

There was some rustling, and Henry was forced back into consciousness by a sharp pain in his shin. His vision cleared a little, and he looked to his leg as the man dug around in his leg with a knife. A dull glimmer shone in the wound, and out popped the bullet, which then rolled onto the floor with a click. The man stuffed the wound full of gauze, re-wrapped Henry's thigh with the belt, and again called for a stimpak to the others, who frantically rushed for their supply. 

"Mama Murphey's got it, Captain!" The man jumped to his feet to receive a needle and syringe from one of his comrades. He adjusted the dose, readied the needle, pressed it into a vein in Henry's arm, and shoved down the plunger. 

Henry's vision suddenly cleared completely, and he surged upright with a gasp. His heart was pounding, blood roaring in his ears, his eyes wide open and burning. His muscles felt as if he'd taken an AED at full power. His chest heaved, the pain in his leg fading, and the "captain" stared at him strangely. 

A moment of silence passed before the man broke it. 

"Uh, you okay, stranger? Folks don't normally react to a stim like that." Henry took a moment to try to calm himself. 

"I…" He shook his head. A bolt of pain burst in his head, and he winced, his temper riling. "I have a fucking hole in my leg. Do I look okay to you?" The man squinted. 

"You certainly talk fine now…" he mumbled, then put his hand out. "Uh, thanks for the help. Didn't mean for you to get shot in the leg, but…" Henry took his hand and briefly shook it. "Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen." The unusual title didn't even sink in.

"Henry... and who are they? What're you doing in the ruins?" he asked.

"Just folks lookin' for a new home. I've been with 'em since Quincy. Lexington looked good for a while, but the Ghouls drove us outta there." Preston sighed. "A month ago, there were twenty of us. Yesterday, there were eight. Now, we're just five." He pointed to a man and a woman, each who looked of Asian descent. "It's just me, the Longs - Marcy and Jun-" He gestured to a woman in blue sitting near the window who looked high out of her mind. "That's Mama Murphey, over there, and…" he gestured to a man with a greasy pompadour who leaned over a barely-functioning terminal. "That there is Sturges, our technical genius." Sturges only waved his hand and went back to work. 

Henry hummed. 

"Alright, you have a little party going on here, it looks like-" He twitched, then rubbed his temples when another pain flashed through his head. "What the  _ fuck _ do you people put in stims these days? I feel like I just got hit by a truck after snorting a line…" 

"Oh, dear…" Everyone looked at Mama Murphey as she stood up from the window with a blank, thousand-yard-stare. 

"What's wrong, Mama?" Preston questioned. Murphey gazed around with dead eyes at the floor, where she had a little cooler at her feet. 

"I… Mama thinks she mighta given him the wrong needle..." Preston, even with his dark chocolate complexion, paled. 

"What'd you hand me?"

"I gave ya the Big Red One… I think." Henry swallowed as Preston confirmed by looking over the syringe's label with a grimace. That explained why the pain went away so quickly, and why his heart was beating at the speed of sound. Marcy jumped up from her seat. 

"You gave the bastard  _ psycho,  _ you old bat?" Jun held her arm and had her sit back down. 

"She was just trying to help, Marcy…" 

Henry's brow spasmed. He remembered the Psycho drug from his deployment. It was nicknamed "angry-juice" by the less literate for its potent amphetamine-induced aggression, so potent, in fact, that soldiers who took it didn't even feel bullets following an injection. Of course, the withdrawal was deadly, if addiction occurred, with seizures and the like. Henry always refused to take it when it was offered to him by his superiors. Peeing clean of the drug was the only reason he got his pension so early at all.

"You gave me...  _ what?"  _ He tried to breathe normally, tried to resist the strengthening urge to explode in rage. He managed to resist the incoming outburst, and he sighed. Preston huffed, and he eased himself down onto the couch to get a look at Henry's leg. 

"Well, stims  _ are _ used to make Psycho. It might've helped stem the bleedin' some." Henry twitched again with a groan, but not from Preston inspecting his wound again. He didn't even feel the burning anymore.

He stayed in that museum overnight, but he didn't sleep much. That drug destroyed any chance of that happening the moment it entered his bloodstream, that was certain. So, to occupy himself, he played with his Pip-Boy to get used to it, and found a working radio signal with some decent music, "Diamond City Radio." It even played some old hits he knew from before the war. He did drift off for about an hour, the dog at his feet, before he rose the next morning to Preston inspecting his wound again. 

"Thank God for stims. I think you'll be okay, Mister Henry. You'll be able to walk this one right off." Henry sat up, and a headrush had him swaying in his seat. 

"How's that, Mister Garvey?" Preston pointed to Henry's injured leg. Henry looked, and sighed. The wound had long since stopped its bleeding without the gauze, for Preston had taken it out a few hours ago, and was already starting to scar over. A wave of relief washed over him. 

"How's it feel?" Sturges asked from the computer. Henry stretched. He was exhausted, his head was pounding, and he couldn't stop shaking. The withdrawal was already setting in. 

"It itches like crazy…" Preston grinned and clapped Henry's weak shoulder. 

"The worse it itches, the better it's healin', my mother always used to say." Henry puffed a breath and stood up. His knee was stiff, for some of the swelling had yet to go down, but he was steady enough on his feet to walk comfortably, and he whistled to his dog, who lay sprawled by Sturges's feet. 

"Mister Garvey?" Preston perked up. "If I were to look for a missing person, who would I go to around here?" The minuteman hummed in thought, then snapped his fingers when the answer occurred. 

"You'd wanna go to Nicky Valentine, down in Diamond City. Best detective in the Commonwealth, I hear." Henry nodded, then heaved out a breath. 

"And where would this 'Diamond City' be?" Preston waved his hand for Henry to follow him and he strode over to the window to point down to the main road. 

"You're gonna follow this main road, and take the first right you see, then follow it all the way over the Charles River, into downtown Boston. It's in the old Boston Stadium, can't miss it at night." Henry nodded."

"Sounds like a hell of a walk." Preston clapped his shoulder again. 

"You'll probably hit it in about three days after kicking off from here." Henry straightened his cap.

"Okay." Sturges finally took his eyes off the computer.

"Wait, you aren't going to go now, are you? You can't walk  _ that _ far with a busted leg!" Henry huffed, and he presented the gnarly scar on his shoulder.

"I killed fifteen men with a combat knife while my shoulder was crippled, back in my prime. Trust me, not my first rodeo." Preston and Sturges exchanged glances before Preston looked back at his savior.

"Well, if you think you can, I'm not gonna hold you back, but I've got a question for  _ you _ , before you leave Concord." Henry hummed as he gathered up his belongings and his dog. "Do you know of anywhere safe around here we could go? Those raiders we shot down yesterday weren't the last of 'em. We need some place we can actually defend, and this old museum is falling apart." Henry considered his options briefly before he opened his mouth."

"I live in Sanctuary Hills, just north of here. I was just there yesterday, and it's totally clear." The settlers looked at each other hopefully. 

"And we can just… stay there?" Sturges inquired, a dark brow raised. 

"So long as you don't bother the Mr. Handy there-" Henry twitched. "Old Codsy will be fine with you guys. Just say I said you were okay to stay there, and he'll be no trouble." Preston smiled warmly and put his hand out to him.

"Thanks, Mister Henry. We really owe you big for this." Henry took it and shook it firmly.

Preston, against the advice of the other settlers, gave Henry a few cans of dog food and a canteen that had seen better days to maintain him on the way to Diamond City. As Henry examined a can on his way down the road, he shrugged, figuring it was better than offal, and stuffed it into his duffle bag, then started tooling with his radio.

As he neared the river in the following hours, the radio squeaked, having picked up a new signal from nearby. He tuned it and lifted it to his ear. 

_ "Scribe Haylen of Recon Squad Gladius to any unit in"  _ A hiss-  _ "-mission range. Authorization Arx. Ferrum. Nine. Five. Our unit has sustained casualties and we're running low on supplies. We're requesting support or evac from our position at Cambridge Police Station…"  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preston isn’t the type to ask an injured man for fire support, so chill, I swear it’s gonna work out mkay


	4. The Dawn Patrol

Henry was far from enthused when he heard the gunfire coming from the ruins of Cambridge, but having heard the signal on his radio, he wasn’t about to leave a soldier to die, so he and his dog went slinking into the town’s limits. He remembered vaguely where the police station was, and the occasional flashes of laser-fire flying out of the area helped in finding the place quickly.

The station, like the rest of the city, was in ruins, but still standing firm, with a wooden wall keeping its premises hidden from prying eyes of unwanted visitors. That evening, Henry arrived with the dog, whom he deemed “Dogmeat,” he was met with a number of gunmen who had just ceased fire against… well, Henry didn’t know  _ what  _ in the world they were. He didn’t get a good look at them as he approached, but he concluded they were burned badly by radiation.

One of the gunmen, a man in T-60 Power Armor with a hefty laser rifle, caught sight of Henry with his hands up. Before Henry could say anything, guttural snarls sounded from the street, and he skirted into the line of two men defending the station, his gun drawn. 

More of those burned people than Henry could count came charging into the station all at once, falling and clawing over each other to get to the soldiers. Henry fired at two that came his way and sent them down, but a third managed to escape the gunfire and latched onto him. Henry tried to tear the monstrosity off, but the man in armor did it for him and threw it across the yard to send it running. Dogmeat chased after it. The unarmored soldier, when Henry looked, had one of them all over him on the ground. 

They rolled across the sidewalk, spitting and howling and punching. Henry took careful aim at the creature and pulled the trigger. Half of the thing’s head blew off, and the soldier, now covered in its blood, shoved the body off with a grunt. He got up, holding a claw-mark in his belly, and coughed before he straightened himself with his gun and looked out at the wall. A good minute passed. No more of those zombie-looking things came after them. 

The man in armor plodded over and grabbed his injured comrade’s arm. 

“Rhys, head inside… Have Haylen treat your injuries.” Rhys nodded, breathed a “yessir,” and went stumbling into the police station. When Rhys was out of sight, the man in armor sighed, and when he turned to give Henry a look, Henry found himself shrinking back. 

The man was stern of face, with cold, dark eyes and an unshaven, firmly clenched jaw. His skin, ruddy and filthy from the heat of the gunfight, was tanned deeply and roughened by the wind and blazing sun. A hood was tightly fitted over his head and wrapped around his neck to hide any hair or muscular contour from view, leaving only his face to be visible. When he questioned Henry’s intentions, his voice, like that of a lifelong smoker, was deep and a little raspy as he caught his breath.

“Just… was looking for some Nuka-Cola to wet the old whistle when I heard the shooting, figured I’d come and join your little party here.” The man’s brow knitted. Henry sighed and raised his left arm to show off his Pip-Boy. “I was walking earlier when I heard your distress signal, came by to see if I could help.”

“Well, civilian, the help was appreciated. Are you from a local settlement?” the man asked. Henry squinted. 

“Considering I just helped save your asses, do the questions really matter?” The man returned the scowl and took a quick look out at the street as Dogmeat returned before he replied. 

“If I appear suspicious, it’s because our purpose here has been difficult. Since the moment we’ve arrived in the Commonwealth, we’ve been constantly under fire.” Henry hummed and gave Dogmeat a pat. The man looked up at the sky and took a deep breath. “I suppose you deserve a reward for risking your life like that for us… Do you require a place to stay tonight? It’s getting late.” Henry gave him a shrug and a nod, and he followed the man into the station. He led Henry and Dogmeat into the main room of the place and set his gun down onto the reception desk. 

“Who are you guys, anyway?” 

“I am Paladin Danse, Brotherhood of Steel.” Danse pointed to the far corner of the room to the injured soldier and what appeared to be a medic at his side. “Over there are my subordinates, Knight Rhys and Scribe Haylen.” Haylen waved with a smile, and Rhys simply gave a nod as Haylen treated his wound. “We’re on recon duty, but so far, we’ve been unsuccessful. I’m down a man and we’re running low on supplies.” Henry stretched and watched Dogmeat as he went over to give Rhys a kiss. 

“Yeah, I heard on Haylen’s distress call. You guys are a mess, aren’t you?” Danse didn’t have much of a reaction to that aside from a dirty look, but Rhys very much did.

“Do you have any idea who you’re talking to, wastelander? Show some respect to the Paladin!” Haylen hushed Rhys and went on with stitching his wound closed. Danse puffed. 

“I suppose we are. We’ve been trying to get a distress call to our superiors, but the signal is too weak to reach them.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I know well you’re not here to pity us. You’re more than welcome to sleep in our quarters for the night.” Henry nodded, then flinched a little when his leg throbbed. The stimpak’s effect was wearing off. 

“I, uh, know I’m pushing my luck here, but can you spare any stims? I got shot in the leg the other day, and one wasn’t enough.” Haylen called for him and pointed to the reception desk. 

“I have a few in the desk there. Feel free to take one.” Henry thanked her and limped over towards the desk. 

He was offered a bed, and while he did take it, he didn’t sleep for long, so he wandered about the station. To his surprise, he found a few rounds in a back room that he could use with his pistol, but he otherwise didn’t find anything he was comfortable taking, so he ended up just sitting outside. From the steps leading to the station, many of the constellations he’d heard of but never seen were finally visible, for there was very little pollution at all, now that the factories weren’t running anymore. 

In spite of the smell of nuclear fallout and the burned, decaying grass, he was met with something he hadn’t had in a very long time; silence. Pure silence. It was blissful, but unsettling all the same, to be able to hear the dull ringing of his ears. 

The station’s door opened, and he looked to see the Paladin come out. The man startled a little, but his composure didn’t fall, and he came to stand at Henry’s side. Dogmeat padded over and sniffed his boot. They were both quiet for a while, awkward, before Danse broke the silence. 

“Forgive my impudence, but I neglected to ask your name.” Henry smirked a little and stretched his leg. 

“Henry Frederickson, United States Army.” 

A hum. “So, you’re of military background.” A pause. “Then I would better trust your ability, if you would assist me in something.” Henry looked up at him with a quirked brow. 

“Depends on what it is, soldier boy. I’m heading off to Diamond City soon.” 

“It wouldn’t take too much of your time, I’m sure.” Henry leaned back. 

“I’ll bite, then.” Danse knelt down to be better heard, and gave Dogmeat a quick pet before he presented his case. 

“Haylen modified the radio tower she set up on the roof, but the signal is too weak to reach our superiors in the Capital Wasteland. We’ve had our sights on a place nearby that may have a part to boost the signal, but with so many casualties over the last few months, we haven’t been able to get it.” Henry nodded in understanding. 

“So, you want me to go grab it for you?” Danse hummed. 

“I need someone to have my back while I secure it and bring it back here, given this whole area is overrun by ghouls. If you help us, I can promise a handsome payment.” Henry’s interest piqued at the mention of payment. 

“I  _ do  _ need money to pay that detective…” he mumbled, then gave Danse a concluded look. “You got yourself a deal, sir.” 

The two headed out the following morning to where Haylen figured the transmitter was located, the ruins of an aerotechnics testing facility west of Cambridge. He never actually went there himself, but Henry remembered something about a big military project they were working on. Obviously, it never came into fruition, what with the events of 2077.

Danse stopped at the door when they arrived there that afternoon. Dogmeat was left back at the station, partially due to Haylen’s request to look after him. Henry was still out of breath from the hike; his withdrawal symptoms were becoming harder to hide from a lack of sleep. Damn the amphetamines and that old woman to hell.

“Listen, we do this cleanly. I don’t want to see any heroics from you. Understood?” Henry let out a little sough as he loaded his gun. 

“Remember, this isn’t my first rodeo.” Danse’s dark eyes narrowed. 

“You would do well to show a  _ little  _ humility, civilian.” He let out a hard breath, and he pressed his armored hand against the door. “Be sure to check your fire. I don’t want to be hit by any stray bullets.” Henry followed him in, almost expecting a gun to be shoved into his face as soon as he stepped inside, but they were met only with silence. 

The Paladin quickly scanned the atrium before he drew further in, past a doorway just behind the reception desk. Henry was busy rooting through an old cigarette machine in the lobby when Danse called for him. He went padding into the back room, about to inquire as to why he was summoned, only to shut his mouth and duck behind the doorway. 

The room was obviously dedicated for the facility’s Protectron units, for the walls were lined with quite a number of glass cases for their storage, but they were empty. Their residents were strewn across the floor in a heaping pile of metallic carnage. Henry swallowed. 

“Well, we certainly missed the party…” Danse snorted, and he nudged one of the destroyed units with the toe of his boot. 

“That’s a hasty assessment. Look at the evidence…” Henry humored him and glanced over the ruins. “There’s not a single drop of blood, nor a spent round of ammunition. This was the work of Institute synths.” He frowned. 

“Institute? Synths?” he echoed. “Look, I’m… I came out of one of the Vaults for the first time just a few days ago, so you’re gonna have to catch me up on some of these things.” 

“ _ Synths _ are an abuse of technology, created by the Institute, intended to improve upon humanity with robots that resemble us.” Danse brandished his rifle. “The Brotherhood has been on the hunt for them for months, now.” 

“Let’s hope they didn’t get that transmitter.” Danse gave him a nod, and he stomped over the carnage with ease, Henry on his heels. 

“You say you’re a Vault Dweller, civilian?” he queried. “That’s inconsistent with your aforementioned military experience.” Henry was a little stumped on how to answer that. 

“Um, it’s a bit of a long story, and I’d probably sound like a nutcase if I tried to explain… I barely believe it myself.” Danse sent him an expectant eye. 

“I doubt you’re the biggest ‘nutcase’ I’ve ever had the misfortune of dealing with.” Henry scoffed and straightened himself when they stopped in another open room. 

“Were any of them two-hundred years old?” Danse stopped in his tracks to glare at him. 

“As a matter of fact, no. You don’t look much like a Ghoul to me, either.” 

“Uh, I was preserved some kind of way in the Vault I was sent to when the bombs fell because of my service in the army, way back when. I only just woke up a few days ago.” He paused. “And I think I’m the only one to walk out of there alive...” Danse looked a little unsure, but then the signature grimace of realization crossed his face. 

“Vault-Tec was notorious for conducting experiments on their residents… In all honesty, long-term preservation of human bodies would likely be the more humane of them.” Henry shivered a little at that, but he didn’t reply, and he went trotting up to the only door in the room. It was locked. 

“I don’t think this thing’s gonna budge. Is there a terminal in here?” Danse glanced around the room briefly before one caught his eye, and he went over to it, only to curse under his breath.

“Damn. There’s a lock…” Henry came over. 

“Lemme have a crack at it. I worked in tech support for Greentech Genetics, after I got discharged, so I might be able to get it.” He gazed at the password screen and clicked on the first option. It was a no go, but had a like letter. He tried a few others, each growing a little closer based on the letter. “You have no idea how many times I had to go through this over at Greentech. You’d think the employees would write it down, but no. I got paid to babysit a bunch of kids.” Danse wordlessly tapped his foot. “Yeah, yeah, I know…” He had it narrowed down, and he was certain of his last choice. He clicked it. The terminal froze briefly, then directed him to the control screen. He smirked. “I still have it.” He went through the options, found the remote door control, and overrode the lock. 

The door audibly clicked, but what made the two men freeze were the soulless voices from the other side of the far wall. 

“Is someone present?” Danse got down on one knee, hid the majority of himself behind the desk, dragged Henry down with him, and aimed his rifle. The door opened to reveal a trio of plastic-looking humanoids with static faces and weapons of their own. The two opposing groups froze. Danse squeezed the trigger. One of the robots went down, and the other two sprang into action. 

Henry didn’t even have to pull his gun up, for the Paladin’s marksmanship trumped his own. Danse got up, watching the door, and plodded over to the humanoid remains to inspect them. 

“If they’re still here, maybe they haven’t gotten to the transmitter yet. Do you know where it could be?” Danse picked through the remnants to pick up a few fusion cells, which he pocketed for his rifle. 

“Haylen mentioned it was likely to be in the engine core, in the communication tower.” Henry uttered an “okay” and jumped to his feet to chase after the Paladin. As they traversed along the hallways, Henry got to thinking that Danse looked and sounded familiar. Then it occurred to him and almost made him burst in laughter; the man was the spitting image of Buzz Lightyear, dialect and all. He snorted to himself with a grin that he was thankfully able to hide within Danse’s line of sight. 

ArcJec turned out to be quite small, and they were not met with many more of those “synths,” save for two stragglers. It seemed luck was on their side, for the engine core was devoid of activity by the time they entered. 

Henry stepped up to the edge of the shaft in which a nuclear engine was set up. The thing took up most of the shaft, leaving very little room at the bottom of the stairs. Their target, the head of communications was at the very top of the shaft, and the only way up now was by elevator, for the stairs going upward were knocked out. Unfortunately, the call button didn’t work, and the whole place was in the dark, save for the light on Henry’s Pip-Boy.

“Well, what do you reckon we do now? The power’s out.” Danse lingered at his back and gazed down the shaft at the intact steps, then at the elevator that stood in the wall.

“We may be able to find a functional generator in the basement, given the pristine state of the core, here.” He started down the steps, and Henry followed him closely to the bottom, where the floor was blackened from a previous test. Despite the power not having been on in over two hundred years, Henry was still wary of getting cooked, and he stuck to the wall as closely as possible. Constantly looking up and checking out of sheer paranoia didn’t help his headache, nor his trembling, but he managed to keep it hidden.

The two ventured into what appeared to be a primitive control center for the engine testing site, with several buttons through the room for various functions, including one for the door and another to initiate the testing phase. 

Henry found the auxiliary generator and its terminal, but the terminal, of course, was locked tight. He uttered a swear under his breath, sat down by the computer, and started narrowing down the possibilities. His eye wouldn’t stop twitching, making it harder to concentrate on the screen.

As he worked on finding the password, Danse idled at his back, his rifle held closely to his armored chest. Suddenly, his head snapped to look out the viewing glass. 

“What is it?”

“Dammit! I had a feeling there’d be more…” Henry turned to look at a cluster of synths trailing down the stairs, but Danse turned him right back around. “You keep working. I don’t think they see us yet.” Henry’s fingers moved at a speed that would make any cop faint as he searched. He could hear the synths uttering to themselves, and Danse nudged him. 

“Would you stop it,  _ Paladin Pretty-Boy? _ ” Danse’s eyebrows shot up to his hidden hairline. He tried one after another, noting likenesses, until he finally got the right one. He was directed to the control center, where he fired up the auxiliary power source. That, of course, turned on all the lights, revealing his position with Danse in that room to the synths. 

The synths made their presences fully known, but before they could come pooling in, Henry found the option to shut the door remotely, and pressed it. The safety door slammed shut, and the two soldiers went over to the glass to have a gander at the army of synths standing out there. He huffed in disbelief. He counted twenty of them standing out there, all glaring in at them. 

“I don’t think we can take that many on at once.” 

Danse grimaced. “And I don’t have a distress pulser…” 

They both went silent. Henry’s eyes wandered over to the engine control. Danse followed his gaze and frowned. 

“I don’t think that’s wise.” Henry glared at him.

“It’s either that-” He twitched and took a deep breath. “It’s either that, or we go out there and get turned into Swiss cheese. What would you prefer?” Danse’s face reddened a little, but when he couldn’t shoot back with anything, he was rendered silent, and he stepped back from the window. Henry took that as acceptance, and he smashed his fist into the button.

_ “Engine Core initializing in 5…”  _ Henry doubled all the way back to the far wall with his companion and took a moment to compose himself.  _ “4…”  _ The synths still banged on the windows with their pistols and batons, oblivious to the impending inferno.  _ “3…”  _ Danse shifted over to shield Henry from what was to be a blinding light, and covered his own eyes.  _ “2…”  _ The engine roared and made the whole building tremble.  _ “1…”  _

The entire shaft exploded in flames, blotting out the silhouettes that once crowded in front of the window. Even through the glass and Danse’s armor, he could feel the heat. It was over in just a few instants. When they came to the window, nothing but molten metal was left of the synths. Henry sighed, then smirked, and gave Danse a nudge. 

“What was that you said back there? About humility?” Danse rolled his eyes with a groan. 

“Just open the damned door.” Henry pressed the button to open the safety door after he cancelled the testing sequence, but when he went to take a step, he yowled and flew back into the control room. Danse gave him a strange glower, then realized that the floor was just a few degrees short of turning to liquid. 

Without a word, he grabbed Henry by the back of his shirt, lifted him up, and carried him over to the elevator. It opened up upon being called, so Danse practically tossed Henry into there, strode in himself, and pressed the button to go to the top floor. The cab groaned as it hauled the two men up, and squealed as it came to a stop at the top of the shaft. Danse stepped out, and Henry went to follow him, but his boots, having melted and rehardened, came unstuck from the floor with a pop. 

Henry snickered at that and followed the Paladin out into the commune room. 

“So, what’s this thingamajig look like?” 

Danse ventured over to one of the desks. 

“It’s shaped like a small box, has an antenna sticking out of it, and a red button on the side.” He started sifting through it, mumbling to himself. Henry shrugged and started poking around through another desk nearest the door. He found nothing in the first drawer he looked into, so he moved on to another, but he hadn’t even opened it when he heard Danse holler and topple to the floor with a clatter that made Henry’s ears ring. 

He stood up and whipped around to see Danse thrashing and spitting on the ground, a synth with a bag over its shoulder latched onto his back. 

“I am now stealth-attacking you.” Henry raised his gun to fire. The bullet hit the synth in the side, but it didn’t even flinch. The synth found no results in pounding on Danse’s armor, so it grabbed onto his hood, yanked it back, and drew it up against his throat. “I am now choking you.” Danse gasped and scrambled against the synth’s hold, but it was in vain in his position. 

Henry came tearing over and sent a hearty kick into the synth’s head. The synth went down, a crack in its face, and before it could get back up, Henry unloaded four rounds into its skull. Its eyes, those that once flashed, went dark, and its artificial limbs stopped twitching. He sighed, then looked to Danse. 

“You okay, you big tin can?” Danse groaned as he rose to his feet, and he gripped his throat with a grimace. 

“I didn’t even hear that thing coming.” He sniffed and gave Henry a dip of his head. “Thank you.” Henry gave him a thumbs-up and knelt down to inspect the synth’s bag.

“Well, whaddya know?” He came back up with the transmitter and beheld it to Danse. “This it?” Danse nodded.

“Yes.” Henry stuffed the transmitter under his arm. “Let’s get back to the station, before any more show up.”

The walk back to the station was silent. They walked down the road, to the east, side-by-side as the sun went down. As he staggered along, Henry kept twitching and yawning; he hoped he could sleep that night, for he planned on kicking back off to find that detective, “Valentine.” Danse coughed a little, to which Henry looked up at him. It was only then he noticed the Paladin’s hair. Danse didn’t put his hood back on, for it was badly torn when the synth tried to strangle him, leaving his dark, neatly-groomed crew-cut uncovered.

Henry had no idea why he covered it at all, as nice as it was. He knew men before the war who spent serious money for locks half as luxurious. He snorted to himself and pushed the thought away. 

He still had a long walk back to that police station, and likely innumerable Ghouls to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a fetish for Danse’s hair


	5. Help Save The Youth Of The Commonwealth

It made Henry sick to his stomach to see Boston again, in her current state. In his mind, it was just last week that he'd been there to go to work. The place, while it wasn't very clean to begin with, was in better shape before the war than it was now, of that Henry could be certain. As he strode in the shadows, Dogmeat just at his right heel, he gazed up at the skyscrapers. Some were full of holes, having taken some direct hits from the bombs, and some were even leaning on one another, just barely resisting gravity. 

It was only his seventh day in the Wasteland, yet he was already numb and deaf to the distant gunfire. Dogmeat's ears flattened, and he whined, but Henry softly hushed him and patted the dog's back to soothe him. 

  
  


_ (Two days earlier…) _

  
  


Night had just fallen upon their return. Haylen greeted them at the desk with a standing salute, Dogmeat at her side. 

"Glad to see you return safely, sir," she declared. "Did you secure the transmitter?" Danse dipped his head in a nod and gestured to Henry, who fished the transmitter out of his bag to hand to her. She grinned. 

"Has Knight Rhys's condition improved, Scribe?" Danse asked. Haylen nodded. 

"Yes, Paladin. He's resting in his quarters to let his sutures mend. He'll be back on his feet tomorrow." Danse's lips quirked up the very slightest bit.

"Outstanding." He looked to Henry. "As for you, I'm afraid we've few caps to spare for your assistance..." Henry narrowed his eyes. 

"You said you could pay me!" Danse scowled at him. 

"If you would let me finish, I have something else that may compensate for our lack of funds." Henry raised a brow. 

"And that is?" Danse waved for him to follow, and he strode into the room behind the reception desk; a lounge, it seemed, though the whole of it was in tatters. A handful of empty crates were scattered about the place, and upon a table in the far corner, several guns were lain. Danse picked his way over the rubble to the table, and he picked up one of the guns, a laser rifle, to examine before he passed it to Henry. 

"I modified that one personally. If it doesn't serve you well in battle, it should fetch a fine price in the markets." Henry's pale eyes flicked over it briefly, and he caught a name carved into the stock; "Righteous Authority." A guilty stone weighed in his belly. 

"Don't you need it?" Danse shook his head. 

"Every wise Brotherhood soldier carries several back-up weapons with him. I'll fare fine without it." Henry studied it for a while longer before he finally lifted his head back up. 

"Well… thanks for the gun and everything." The Paladin gave him a nod. 

"Not a problem. Now, you would do well to rest before you depart tomorrow as you planned. From what I understand, Diamond City is a long walk from here." 

_ (At present)  _

Henry was just thinking he was lost when he saw the stadium from afar. His heart skipped a little, and he started jogging down the street. Dogmeat had to push himself to keep up. He hoped the rifle and ammunition Danse had paid him with could satisfy that detective.  _ If he could be found _ . Henry pushed the dark thought away and carried on with his head high, regardless of how awful he felt. 

He thought a night or two of rest would help his withdrawal, but if anything, he was feeling worse. The twitching hadn't improved, he was nauseous, and he was constantly on edge, though he wasn't sure if it was the amphetamine craving or his actual paranoia. He no longer doubted the potency of trench-warfare drugs. As he rounded a corner to draw closer to the stadium, the gunfire suddenly became much louder, to the point Henry could no longer ignore it, so he brought Danse's rifle up to the crook of his shoulder.

Though he tried not to get to attached to it, he had to admit he was spoiled by its incredible accuracy and lack of recoil; that a lot of work had gone into that gun was evident. He hated to have to sell it. 

With the safety off, he trailed onward until a man in a trenchcoat came bolting out into the street. Following him was quite a hulking, greenish form of a humanoid that held a rifle in either hand. 

It roared and aimed at the man it was chasing with both barrels. Henry shouted and brought up his rifle. The abomination whipped its head around to look, only to be met with a laser to the face. It stumbled back with a shriek, but didn't fall. Henry went charging at it and fired a few more shots. 

They each met their target in its trunk, and it went down onto one knee. Before it could rise up again, Henry blasted it in the face a second time, and it went down. Henry stopped at its side to look at it, a creature with green skin, powerful muscles, a tall stature, and a small skull. When he was sure it wasn't going to get back up, he took a gander over at the man the monster had chased. The victim's shredded hat covered his face, and he swept it back to reveal himself with a cheshire grin. 

"Nice work, scavver. Muscle-for-brains there almost had me, as much as it pains me to admit it." Henry was shocked by the man's appearance. He had the vague look of a human, but his face, obviously not of flesh, was grey and fibrous, and held a set of piercing yellow eyes. His one hand, metallic and full of circutry, was skeletal compared to the other and creaked a little as his fingers flexed. The synth smirked. "I know you've probably seen prettier mugs than mine, but is it really that bad?" 

Henry coughed, having realized he was staring. 

"N-no." The synth huffed and put that mangled hand out. 

"Nick Valentine's the name." Henry pursed his lips a little and took it, surprised by the strength of Nick's grip. Dogmeat stuffed his nose into Nick's pocket with a whuff.

"Henry…" He cleared his throat. "You're that detective from Diamond City, right?"

"You need me for something?" Henry nodded. 

"I'm looking for a missing person. I was told you were the best." Nick chuckled. 

"I don't know about the  _ best _ , but…" His metallic eyes drifted over to the monster's body. "Well, we can talk details when we get to the city. I don't want this guy's friends to find us here." 

The two started jogging down the street to leave that… green thing behind. 

"What the hell was that thing, anyway?" Henry asked. Nick gave him a strange look. 

"You've got to be pulling my leg, buddy." 

"Just humor me." Nick shrugged.

"Well, Mister Green back there was a Super Mutant. They smell about as bad as you might think." Henry looked back to make sure Dogmeat was able to keep up. 

"You mean there are more of them?" Nick snorted. 

"Unfortunately, yes. Usually, one isn't much of a problem, but he smashed the pistol I had with me and I had to high-tail it. Turned out he had better endurance than I thought." Henry felt sickened at that, but he ignored it until the signs pointing to the city came into view. 

Nick slowed down his gait, so Henry stopped running. Before long, they were met with Boston Stadium's entrance. The bronze statue before the gates was overgrown with some kind of vine that had long died, and the plaza was cracked and rifted to the point Henry couldn't even look up without tripping. 

Valentine guided him through the old reception area, past where a woman in a red coat was shouting at a guard. Within the stadium, where there were once the stands and concessions, there were shacks built of metal plating lining the walls. In the center of all the colorless shacks was a red tent, and a few hand-built stands that circled around it. Halloween decorations, some pre-war and some made from spray-painted junk, were strewn throughout the city as Henry followed Valentine along. 

Valentine made a bee-line for the back alley in which his office was set up. 

"You know, you caught me at a good time, right between cases. Just finished one up before you tripped over me. I'll get you to tell me about what happened, and we'll play it by ear from there," he murmured and opened the door. "Ellie, I've returned!" 

Nick's home was… modest, for lack of better words. Henry didn't doubt the rest of the city looked that way. Most of the one-room building was taken up by his office, and only a miniscule portion was dedicated to his bare necessities, such as a bed, a sink, and a stove, though a moment of thought made Henry realize they were likely for Nick's assistant, Ellie. 

Ellie was a sweet thing, a girl straight out of a home-life magazine with her hair tied up and a skirt around her hips. She picked up a clipboard from Nick's desk as the detective sat down. Nick crossed a leg over his knee and lit up a cigarette that he put in his teeth as Henry sat down on the far side of the desk. Dogmeat nestled in the legspace.

"When you're trying to find someone who's gone missing, the devil is in the details," Nick said. "Tell me everything you can, no matter how…" He paused. "... painful it might be." Henry cracked his knuckles and took a deep breath. 

"Look, before I begin, let me just ask that you bear with me. It's been a… crazy trip for me." Nick waved for him to continue. "Let me start at the beginning…"

Henry went on to explain his military background, and how he ended up in Vault 111 when the bombs fell, then described the preservation chamber and the kidnapping. Nick nodded along the entire time, and not once did the slightest hint of skepticism flash on his face. When Henry finished summarizing the background, he shivered. Again, he wasn't sure if it was his withdrawal or the raw memory. Nick nodded. 

"So it all started in a sealed up Vault, huh? That's a lot of hoops to jump through just to get to one person." Ellie diligently wrote everything down, and gestured to the two men to continue. "Anything you remember about the kidnappers?" Henry leaned his head back in thought. 

"There was a man and a woman. They didn't say much, but the man called me 'the backup." Nick hummed and nodded. 

"Ah, so we're talking about a small team, then? Professionals, the kind that have to keep their lips tight when they're on the job. Not sure what 'the backup' means, though…" Henry frowned. 

"Why Shaun, though? He's just a baby."

"A good question. Why your family in particular, and why an infant? Someone would be taking on all his care, and a baby needs a lot of it." He straightened his hat. "Well, we've confirmed one thing: this wasn't a random kidnapping. Whoever did this had an agenda." He scratched his face. "There's a lot of people in the Commonwealth who take people. Raiders, Super Mutants, the Gunners, and of course, there's the Institute."

There was that  _ Institute _ again.

"So, this Institute I keep hearing about. You think they could be behind this?" Henry asked. Nick leaned into his chair. 

"Well, they're the boogeymen of the Commonwealth. Something goes wrong, everyone blames 'em, and it's easy to see why; those early model synths of theirs strip whole towns for parts, killing everything in their way." He chuckled a little. "Then you've got those newer models, good as human, that infiltrate cities and pull strings from the shadows. Worst part is no one knows why they do it, what the plan is, or where they are. Not even me, and I'm a synth myself." He then mumbled, "A discarded prototype, anyway." 

Henry huffed. 

"At any rate, we need to find Shaun." Nick nodded and puffed on his cigarette. 

"You're right. The speculation's getting us off track." He cleared his throat. "Let's focus on what you saw. What'd the kidnappers look like?" Henry had to really fight to think, and he furiously tapped his fingers against his forehead. Then it came to him, the man's voice. 

"I won't forget the man's voice, real deep and rough. Like… like sandpaper on my face." Nick held his cigarette from his lips for a moment. 

"Not much to go off of, but… A tough and commanding voice can get you pretty far in the violence business. What else?"

"He had a .44 caliber handgun, was loud, had one hell of a kick." 

"So, he had a high-caliber pistol. Not many of those beauties still around." Nick tapped his cigarette into the ash tray on the desk. "What'd our perp look like?" 

"He came right up to me, I remember…" Henry took another deep breath. "He was balding, had a gnarly scar over his left eye." Nick's brow went up. 

"Wait… You didn't hear the name 'Kellogg,' did you?" Henry shook his head. 

"No. Who is he? Do you think he has Shaun?" Nick took another drag. 

"Well, it's too much of a coincidence." He turned to Ellie. "Ellie, what notes do we have about the Kellogg case?" Ellie flipped through her papers, then stabbed her index finger to one at which she stopped. 

"The description matches, Mister Valentine. Bald head, scar, reputation for dangerous mercenary work, but no one knows who his employer is." 

"And he bought a house right here in down, right? And he had a kid with him, didn't he?" Ellie nodded as she scanned down the paper. 

"That's right. The house in the abandoned West Stands. The boy with him was around ten years old." 

"I mean, it's a possibility, I guess. I don't know how long I was in that Vault after they came." Nick looked back up at Ellie and gestured for her to hand him her notes. 

"Well, assuming the man you saw is the man we're talking about, we can't ignore his little domicile just up in the Stands." He stood up and dusted his coat off. 

Nick made his way with the papers Ellie gathered to speak to Diamond City's mayor for permission to search the abandoned house, leaving Henry with Ellie. He tapped his fingers on Nick's desk as he sat there, and he sighed. Ellie, who was idly organizing some of Nick's files, sent Henry a knowing glance. 

"Mister Frederickson…" He perked up with a hum. "Diamond City is quite the spectacle. Why don't you go have a look around, get your mind off what happened for a little while?"

How, in unholy hell, was he supposed to 'get his mind' off what happened? He sighed, and he scuffed his boots against the ground as he led Dogmeat around the plaza. The sky was dark now, but Diamond City marketplace was as bright and bustling as ever. The restaurant in the center of it all had people crowding all around it, shouting at a badly glitching Protectron for food. There was one man in a salvaged baseball uniform selling baseball bats with a twisted perception on how the game was played. Another was selling guns. Guns! Without asking for a permit! The concept was still foreign to Henry, considering he didn't have easy access to anything bigger than a pistol outside of the army. 

He was starting to go on auto-pilot again, his head buzzing, he circled about again and again. At least he didn't have the weight of Righteous Authority and his duffle bag on his back. He left all but his pistol back in Nick's office. His surroundings started sinking in after his third go round the plaza, and he noticed a man in a stand promoting 'chems,' having claimed he was a pharmacist of sorts. Henry figured he had something for the withdrawal, so he went over to have a look, only to realize he had no money. 

Before he could double back, the dealer noticed him, and waved him over with a dopey leer. 

"You need a prescription filled, man?" Henry patted Dogmeat's head and trailed over to stand closely to him. 

"I, uh, have a bit of a personal issue…" he whispered. The pharmacist leaned so Henry didn't have to shout. "You have anything to help with amphetamine withdrawal?" The pharmacist breathed in sharply through his teeth. 

"Nothin' you could easily afford." Henry gave him a strange look. "You got your hands on angry juice, didn't you? You have the look. Your eyes are all red."

"Well, how long do the symptoms last, then?" The pharmacist shrugged. 

"Depends. The cheap Psycho I have ain't as bad as the good stuff the Gunners use, but either way, what you're dealing with ain't gonna go away real quick. Couple months, at least. Shit stays in your system for a  _ long  _ time." Henry groaned. "Weening might be a little more your style, man." He squinted. 

"You  _ think _ , or you  _ know _ ?" The pharmacist bobbed his head toward a passing guard. 

"Diamond City guards take the stuff all the time, said weening's the way they do it." He shrugged. Henry's eye twitched. "When was your last dose, man?"

"Last week. Some idiot confused it for a stim when I got shot." 

"Gonna say, you got the look of a wanderer. You don't wanna get caught in a firefight in that kinda withdrawal. You've had the dizziness, right?" Henry nodded. "Yeah, that'll get you killed at the wrong time." 

"Well, what the hell am I supposed to do? I can't just sit around and wait for my symptoms to go away! I don't have months!" The pharmacist flinched and stepped back, then clapped and rubbed his hands together.

"Tell you what, mister: I feel bad for your little situation there, so I'll give you a little slack. You give me what you can, and I'll get you some low-quality Psycho to get you through until you can get some Addictol. That's fair, right?" Henry paled a little. 

"I hope you're pulling my leg, sir." The pharmacist squinted and shook his head. 

"I'm afraid not." Henry perched his hands on his hips. "Hey,  _ you _ came to  _ me _ for help, scavver. Don't you give me that." He dropped his head.

The last of the reputable pharmacists probably died when the bombs hit. Now, Henry was stuck with this clown, a medical professional of questionable certification, who likely made his drugs in his basement, and risked blowing up the stadium to do so. Henry knew he had only a handful of the modern currency he happened to find in a ruin, which were literal  _ bottle caps _ , trash he would have otherwise tossed to the roadside just two days ago. 

He sighed, and he fished the handful of caps to his name out of his pocket.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarcastic Nick is best Nick


	6. Land of Injection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little shorter this go round but oh well

Henry just about screamed when he pushed the amphetamine into his vein. It burned its way into his blood, made his heart pound, made it feel like he’d just ran a mile and could run a mile more. He never thought he could feel so full of energy in a filthy men’s room until that moment. 

He kicked the stall open as he held pressure to the puncture in his arm, as in his haste to relieve himself of his sickness, he went through the vein and ended up spilling his blood on the floor. He stared at himself in the mirror, and he spat into the sink, disgusted. Dogmeat cleaned up the bloody mess on the grimy tile flooring. His eyes were sunken and bloodshot, and his face was red, as if with anger. His muscles were already spasming again, and he curled his toes as he fought to catch his breath. 

Nick had probably gotten his hands on that search warrant, already. Henry had to pull his shit together. He just hoped the ten weaning doses of Psycho would be enough. He took a deep breath and washed his face in the sink, then straightened his cap atop his head and strode out into the bar room to leave. 

Diamond City Market’s streetlights once made Henry’s head pound, but now, they were hazy, at worst. The vertigo was still there as he made his way back to the office, but at the very least, he was comfortable at his fast-paced stride, not about to black out on the street. The darkness of Third Street was a welcome contrast. He almost didn’t see Nick in the nightly shadow, and would have passed him off completely, if not for the synth’s yellow eyes. 

Nick grinned at him and waved around a key he had in his fingers. 

Kellogg’s place stood by itself, up in the Stands, though it didn’t differ much from the rest of the city below. It had a roof that scarcely held on in the wind, and the door was rusted so badly, Henry had to help Nick open it up. The squeal of the hinges made Dogmeat yelp and tuck his tail down. The house consisted of only one room, with a desk in the main part, and a bed in the loft. 

“Funny. I always thought Kellogg would’ve thought bigger…” Nick mumbled, and he pulled his hat off his head. “Start looking around in that desk there. I’m gonna have a look-see upstairs.” Henry hummed, and he started over to the desk by the wall while Nick clambered up into the loft. “There’s a sleeping bag over by the bed… Looks like he had someone here with him.”

Henry didn’t answer as he sifted through the drawers. When he found nothing, he swept his arm under the desktop to feel for anything out of the ordinary. There was a small ridge on the underside. He looked. 

It was a little red button. He pressed it. 

The wall by the door groaned. Henry, Nick, and Dogmeat stared over where a sheet of metal separated itself from the frame and slid to the side to reveal a hidden room. 

They dipped in and started sifting around, but nothing evident came up. All that was found were .44 caliber bullets, some butts of expensive cigars, and some fancy beer. It didn’t take long for Henry’s temper to start riling again. Nick must have seen Henry’s face redden, for he gripped the man’s shoulder and shook him. 

“Henry, you gotta keep your head. Remember what I said about the little details?” Henry bit his lip and clenched his fists to keep it together. 

“He has some personal affects here, but… What’re we gonna do with cigar butts?” Nick hummed, gripped his chin in thought, and went to pick up one of the burned out cigars from the ground to inspect. 

“I suppose cigars won’t get us far on their own, but…” He took a glance at Dogmeat. “Maybe we could use Dogmeat? Some Commonwealth dogs can track a stale scent for miles, and Kellogg didn’t leave too long ago.” Henry huffed, and he picked up another one of the cigars. 

“If you think it’ll work…” He whistled for Dogmeat, and he held the cigar up to the mutt’s nose. “Search, boy.” Dogmeat took a good couple of whiffs of the sample, then started snuffling around on the floor. 

As he searched, Nick sent Henry a wary glance. 

“Before we set off...” Henry hummed. “It might just be a glitch in my hardware, but you’re lookin’ a little rough. You sure you wanna go right now?” He sighed.

“I’m fine.” Nick shrugged.

“If you say so.” Dogmeat yapped and started toward the door.

Nick was right about how far a Commonwealth mutt’s nose could take them; Dogmeat went running out of Diamond City, past Boston’s western limits and into the wild wasteland. Every time he would get idle, Henry would refresh his nose with the cigar. From Boston city limits, they followed the train tracks over the Charles, and out to Weston. Late evening fell to midnight. Midnight gave rise to the wee hours. 

By then, Henry’s lungs were burning, and his arms ached from carrying Authority for so many miles. He didn’t care about the pain or how tired he was, but Nick certainly did. At the limits of the ruined trailer park at Fiddler’s Greene, Nick called for Henry to stop, and they convened with an exhausted Dogmeat in one of the intact trailers. 

“Listen, I know you want to find your boy, but you need to take this one step at a time.” Henry’s brow knitted, and he slammed the door to the trailer shut before he sent Nick a piercing glare. “Look at you, you’re swaying on your feet.” He scoffed.

“I’m fine, Nick. We need to keep going, or Dogmeat’s gonna lose the trail.” Nick stooped down and gave a panting Dogmeat a scratch behind the ears. 

“We’ve been going for seven hours, Henry, and your dog is in no better shape than you are. Give the poor thing a break.” Henry blew a hot breath out of his nose. 

“Fine, then. You stay here with the dog. I’ll go on ahead.” He went to open the door to leave, but Nick grabbed his arm. 

“You’re gonna get butchered when you find him.” Henry stared him down for a long time, his color-drained face twitching. His fists clenched. “Henry, calm down and think. Kellogg is vicious, and you, like it or not, are sky high. Are you gonna get to Shaun any faster dead?” He went to say something, but Nick’s words sank in through his hysteria.

He gave in. 

He didn’t sleep, the drugs in his blood burning too hot, nor did Nick out of lack of necessity, but sweet little Dogmeat did so soundly. The sun rose up and over the horizon. Henry kept checking the time on his Pip-Boy more often than common sanity would allow. Five o’clock dragged by like a sun-baked lob of roadkill. Six o’clock staggered past like a pothead in wet cement. Dogmeat slept soundly through it all. Henry finally caved at seven o’clock, and he got up from the floor and gave Dogmeat a nudge. 

When Dogmeat refreshed his pallette on the cigar and was told to search, he went bolting out of the trailer. 

Another hour went by of following. Henry didn’t even feel the cold November breeze that crept into his bare arms.

Dogmeat led them under an overpass into a field, then began snuffling around in the tall grass. Henry was about to get the sample of scent out again, but hitched when Dogmeat barked, his tail wagging. Henry went jogging over, Nick just at his heels, and Dogmeat revealed to them a cigar case of  _ San Francisco Sunlights _ . 

“There’s his breed of choice,” Nick mumbled. Henry held the opened case up to his nose. The tobacco was fresh. He offered it to Dogmeat.

“Search, boy.” Dogmeat took a sniff, then started in the grass again. He padded away, went in circles a few times, then perked his head up and went tearing across the field. Henry could barely keep up, even with his waning high. 

They cut right across the plain until they hit a chain link fence line that stretched for quite a distance in either direction. Henry grabbed up Dogmeat and lifted him over the fence. Once Dogmeat was on the other side, Henry fit his toe into the links and hauled himself over. Nick followed him, and they followed Dogmeat until they eventually hit another town. 

One of the first buildings to come into view was a broad, imposing structure, trimmed with red and white paint; Fort Hagen. Dogmeat went loping up and across the road to it, and he skidded to a halt at the front door with a whine. When Henry caught up, out of breath from running, he saw with a curse that the front door was blocked off completely. Nick stopped at the step.

“Alright, looks like we have our place, champ.” Henry sniffed and lifted his cap to smooth his hair back. 

“I don’t see a way in…” he grumbled. Nick shook his head. 

“We’re not going out of our way to find one, either.” Henry quirked a twitching brow. “You and I are going to wait out here.”

“But-”

“Use your head, Henry. If he’s holed up  _ here _ , he’s likely on someone’s shit-list, and he’s expecting someone to come after him. If you go in there, guns blazing, you’re just gonna be more paper for him to cut.” Henry’s fury burned inside brighter than any nuclear blast, but Nick’s point again made his hackles flatten, and he breathed to calm himself down. 

“Okay, okay, you win.” He flexed his fingers. “What do we do, then?” 

“We’ll wait and get the jump on him from both angles. He’s gonna come outta there eventually.”

So they waited. There was a Red Rocket truck stop just across the street from Hagen with its windows busted out, so they took to that as their hiding place. Henry shut Dogmeat into the backroom to keep him quiet, and he and Nick set themselves up by the counter to watch for their target. 

Ten silent hours went by. Nothing. 

Henry could feel his nausea and vertigo setting back in as the evening descended; the chems were wearing off, but he knew better than to shoot up right now. He’d go two days without sleep again. He tapped his fingers on the counter, just to feel something, and he lifted his eyes up to Nick. The synth was by the door, his pistol drawn, jaw clenched. 

“Uh, Nick?” Nick jolted and hummed. “I, uh, think we forgot about discussing payment.” Henry lifted up Righteous Authority off his lap. “You think this’ll do you some justice?” Nick snickered and waved Henry off. 

“Henry, you paid me when that Mutant came after me. I’m just paying you back, at this point.” Henry swallowed thickly. 

“I just dragged you across the state of Massechusettes, man. I gotta owe you something more than that.” Nick didn’t budge. 

“Look, you saved a busted-up old synth you didn’t even know while anyone else would’ve run screaming in the other direction without a second thought. It’s enough, trust me.” Henry huffed. “Besides, how are you gonna fend for yourself without that thing? That’s a fine rifle. You keep it.” 

“Okay.”

Henry went back to the room after a while with Dogmeat to sleep, and used the mutt to keep warm, for his temperature perception was coming back to him. So did the tremors. He buried his face into Dogmeat’s back and sighed. At least he could think without too much anger. It had waned to moderate annoyance.

What the hell did he turn into so quickly? It hadn’t even been two weeks since he’d ventured out of the Vault. Hell, for him, it hadn’t even been two weeks since the bombs fell. Already, he was everything he joined the army to avoid; an aimless, unemployed addict. Currently, the only ones he could trust were a dog and an android who thought he was human, and even then he was questionable, given his origin. Dogmeat snuffled against Henry’s hand and licked him with a little whine. 

“You’re a good boy,” he mumbled. Dogmeat’s tail wagged, and he rolled over onto his back to expose his soft belly. Henry smiled a little and fluffed him. “Yeah, you’re a good puppy, Fluffy-Butt.” As he played with his dog, he didn’t take particular note of the dull humming in the distance, having waved it off as the wind. 

It got louder with each passing second, but Henry couldn’t tell what was. Dogmeat perked his head up, rolled back upright, and growled. Henry cocked his head, and he stood up. The door creaked open to reveal Nick’s face, and the sound that poured in suddenly surged in volume, to the point it was deafening. 

“You have to see this!” the detective shouted over the blare. Henry strode out into the customer area and poked his head out of the window to see something that made him gasp; it was an airship of colossal proportion, with dozens of helicopters that were like flies in comparison buzzing around it. Blinding spotlights that the ship sported along its hull lit up the evening sky to rival the noon daylight. 

An intercom squeaked.

**_“PEOPLE OF THE COMMONWEALTH: DO NOT INTERFERE.”_ **

“What the hell…” Henry mumbled. 

**“OUR INTENTIONS ARE PEACEFUL… WE ARE THE BROTHERHOOD OF STEEL.”**

Nick’s synthetic lip twisted. “Brotherhood of Steel, huh? With an airship like that, they’re here to start a war, mark my words.” Henry bit his knuckle. 

So  _ those _ were the reinforcements Danse was calling in.

Nick suddenly took cover behind the doorway, and shoved Henry to the otherside. Wordlessly, he pointed to the roof of the fort. Henry followed the gesture, and he saw a figure standing up there, gazing up at the airship as it passed by. 

“How accurate is that rifle, champ?” Henry put it up to the crook of his shoulder and flipped the safety off. 

“So far, it’s good enough.” 

“Just don’t kill him. Gotta question him, first.” He nodded, and he took aim. Once the sights were lined up with the figure’s legs, he squeezed the trigger. The rifle fired, and the figure upon the roof went down. 

“I got him!” Nick gave him a dip of his head, and he bolted out of the station, Henry just after him. There was some scaffolding along the side of the fort that they scaled, and when they came across the body Henry shot down, his blood started to boil. 

There was their scar-faced perp, sprawled on the ground, groaning with his left leg blown off. Blood was spurting out of the stump. Henry stopped at his side and pressed Kellogg over to his back with his boot. 

Kellogg squinted, thinking, scar crinkling. Then he smirked in realization.

“Good to see you again, you pampered popsicle. Can’t say I expected you to make it far from that Vault.” Henry kicked him in the leg. 

“You know what I’m here for, Conrad. Where’s Shaun?” Kellogg snorted. 

“Right to it, then, huh? Okay.” He winced. “Fine.” He leaned up on his elbows to look Henry in his crazed, bloodshot eyes. “Your boy, Shaun. He’s a good kid. A little older than you might’ve expected, but I’m guessin’ you figured that out by now.” Henry stomped on his chest. 

“Where. Is. He?” Kellogg wheezed, having hit the rooftop hard. 

“Look, if you’re hopin’ for a happy reunion, it ain’t gonna happen. Your boy’s not here.”

“Tell me where he is, dammit!” Henry shouted. Kellogg sniffed. 

“I guess you’ve earned that much… Shaun’s in a good place. He’s home. In the Institute.” Henry paled. Kellogg shifted and pressed a hand to what were likely broken ribs. “Look, popsicle… Believe it or not, I’m actually kind of sorry you wasted your time. In another life, you would’ve been a good father, but you don’t have that chance now.” Henry’s grip trembled on his rifle. 

“I don’t care  _ where  _ he is. I  _ will  _ find him.” Kellogg shook his head. 

“Ain’t gonna be that easy. I’ve been working for ‘em for years, and I don’t even know where they are.” His complexion was paling, strained, and his eyes were getting glassy. “You have… no idea what you’re getting into, kid. I didn’t, either.” Nick gripped Henry’s shoulder. 

“We’re not gonna get much outta him at this rate. I think you hit an artery.” Henry swore. Kellogg grinned at him.

“Well, if that’s the case… I don’t have much to lose anymore, now do I?” He opened his leather coat to reveal the .44 caliber handgun. Before he could reach for the gun, Henry threw his rifle in front of him and fired. Kellogg’s head flew back. The majority of his face was fried into bone jelly by the fusion round and bits of brain reminiscent of cauliflower scattered all over the rooftop. 

Henry ground his teeth until they groaned, and he let out an angry cry as he kicked Kellogg’s corpse. 

“MOTHERFUCKER!” Nick grabbed him and stopped him before he could do any more damage. 

Henry stared him down. Nick pointed to what remained of Kellogg’s head. “Look!” Henry looked. There was a shard of metal sticking out of what was once the middle of the brain. Nick knelt down, and he plucked it out of where it was loosely lodged. A piece of grey matter in the shape of a seahorse came out with what appeared to be a chip. 

“Was he a synth?” Henry asked. Nick shook his head. 

“Nah. I’ve looked into dead synths before for the mayor, and… Well, this is a first.” He tapped his chin, and his lips quirked back when a thought came to him. “If he’s got info on the Institute, this chip isn’t something we can waste.” 

“Can it be analyzed?” Nick bit his cheek and he stood up from the body.

“ _ I _ can’t, but I think I know someone who might be able to.” He opened a little pocket in his trenchcoat and dropped the chip and tissue into it, then sealed it up with a pat. “Looks like we’re headed to Goodneighbor.”


	7. Games Without Frontiers

Nick warned Henry that Goodneighbor was no Diamond City, so he prepared for the worst, yet walking into what remained of Scollay Square was still like taking a bucket of cold water to the face, all the same. The place was run by misfits, for misfits, it seemed. A neighborhood watch of Ghouls guarded the streets, though they weren’t savages like those in Cambridge. One of the shops he passed was run by an Assaultron, a highly volatile example of United States robotics. What was most shocking, however, was the fact the town’s own mayor shanked a man to death as Henry and Nick walked in the gate. The very smell of the place let everyone know where it stood. 

Henry made sure to keep no more than two feet’s distance from Nick at all times in Goodneighbor, and was glad to have Kellogg’s .44 on his hip. 

Their target was the “Memory Den,” a lounge in which technology allowed people to re-experience their memories as if they were in the moment. Nick led him into the place, and it quickly became apparent to Henry that it was likely a brothel at some point or another. They were pointed to a back room by the building’s owner, Irma, to Nick’s associate, so they headed back there. 

“Doctor Amari?” Nick called into the room. A woman with short, dark hair perked up from a console in the back of the room jolted, and she turned to look at him with a squint. 

“Nick Valentine? I take this isn’t a social call…” Henry bit his cheek to resist a twitch. Before he could speak, Nick beat him to it.

“I’ll get straight to the point. We need a deep dig, Amari, but it’s not gonna be easy. Our perp, Kellogg, is already cold on the floor.” Amari grimaced. 

“Are you mad?” she hissed. “Putting aside the fact you are asking me to defile a corpse, you do realize that the memory simulators require intact,  _ living  _ brains to function?” Nick put his hands on his hips.

“This dead brain had inside information on the Institute, Amari. The biggest scientific secret of the Commonwealth. You need this, and so do we.” Amari’s eyes widened.

“On the Institute, you say?” She sighed. “If that’s the case, I’ll have a look, but no guarantees. Do you… have the remains with you?” Nick and Henry looked at each other, and Nick pulled the chip out of his coat pocket. 

“His head was blown to bits, but… We did find this,” Henry said. Amari cringed as she took the piece of implanted grey matter, and she held it up to the light. 

“What is this? This isn’t a brain! This is- wait…” She studied it a little closer. “That grey matter is the hippocampus! And this thing attached to it… a neural interface? It would seem this chip is… preserving it, somehow.” Nick gruffly hummed. 

“Those circuits look awfully familiar…” he mumbled. Amari nodded vigorously. 

“I’m not surprised. From what I’ve seen, all Institute technology has similar architecture.”

“What do you think?” Henry cut in. 

“Well, with so very little decay, I could plug this into a compatible port…” Amari murmured, and she let a glance wander over to Nick. Nick took his hat off. 

“Can’t you use me? I’m an old synth.” Amari pursed her lips and nodded. 

“That’s what I was thinking. If we’re lucky, it should hook right in.” She then tapped her foot and looked down. “But, if it even works, you would be taking a tremendous amount of risk. We’re talking about wiring something into your brain.” Nick scoffed and waved her off. 

“Don’t worry about old me, Amari. Let’s do it.” Henry felt sick. It wasn’t the withdrawal.

“Nick, are you  _ sure _ ?” he pressed. Nick nodded and grinned. 

“There’s a missing kid on the line, here. It’s worth the risk.” Henry’s brow knitted, and he stepped back. 

“Thanks, Nick.” 

Amari pulled her chair over from the console and patted the seat. 

“Whenever you’re ready, Mister Valentine.” Nick snickered, and he sat down. 

“If I start cackling like an old, grizzled mercenary, pull me out, okay?” Amari positioned herself and started poking around at a port in the back of Nick’s head. 

“Let’s see here…” She started hooking up the hippocampus into the port, then said clearly. “I need you to keep talking to me, Mister Valentine. Any slight change in your cognitive functions could be dire.” As she continued to work, Nick’s nose wrinkled and his lip curled. 

“There’s… a lot of flashes… static. I can’t make sense of any of it.” Amari huffed, and she drew back from her handiwork. 

“That’s what I was afraid of. The mnemonic impressions are encoded. It seems the Institute has one last failsafe. There’s a lock on the memories in the implant.” Henry frowned. 

“How in blazes do you lock up memories?” Amari took a deep breath to think before she attempted to explain. 

“The implant is encoding all of the mnemonic activity in the hippocampus. Think of it as computer encryption. And we don’t have the password.” She scratched her face in thought. Her face then lit up when an idea came to her. “One mind can’t crack it, but what if we used two? We load both you and Mister Valentine into the memory loungers and run your cognitive functions in parallel. He’ll act as the host while your consciousness drives through whatever memories we can find.” Henry’s fingers flexed, and he twitched a little again. 

“Is there any other way that won’t risk permanent brain damage?” Amari gave him a knowing look. Henry sighed. “Any idea of what’ll… happen in there?” Amari shook her head. 

“I have no clue, but considering we only have a single piece of the temporal lobe to work with, and not an entire brain, I doubt it’ll be… cohesive.” Henry took a moment to think, to weigh his options, before his curiosity got the better of him. 

“If you think it’ll work, let’s do it.” Amari pointed to one of the glass-encased loungers in the room. 

“Just sit down over there, then. And keep your fingers crossed…” Nick sent Henry a shaky smile as Amari guided him over to the other lounger. 

“See ya on the other side, kid.”

Henry loaded himself in and closed the glass case. A screen hitched inside the lid was placed directly in front of his eyes, and didn’t help with his pounding headache one bit.

Once Amari had Nick loaded up in the other lounger, she trotted over to the console. 

“Initiating brain-wave migration between the transplant and the host,” Amari mumbled. Henry took a deep breath to calm himself. “Aha! Mnemonic activity coming from the host. It’s degenerated, but it’s there! Loading the transplant into the strongest memories…” Henry’s vision went white just as Amari told him to hold on. 

He eventually came to consciousness again with Amari’s voice calling him. It was dark where he was, and he couldn’t see his hands in front of his face. 

_ “The simulation appears to be working, although the memories are quite fragmentary. I’ll step you through the intact memories, and hope we’ll find one that gives us some clue to the Institute’s location.”  _

Suddenly, a room formed around Henry’s body. He was situated upon a filthy bed, with a woman sitting just at the edge. A radio was playing on the nightstand. 

_ “This is the earliest intact memory I could find. Remember you are experiencing these memories as Kellogg. They may prove… disorienting, at first.”  _

The woman at the bedside kept uttering to him, but Henry was too out of it to pay attention. 

_ “This doesn’t seem to be what we’re looking for… There seems to be another intact memory close to you in temporal sequence. Loading… now _ .”

From there, Henry was dropped into various settings throughout old Kellogg’s existence. He lived through fragments of that old mercenary starting a family, caring for a baby, grieving when he lost both. Amari pulled Henry through Kellog’s work, assassinations and the like. They all blended together after a while. Henry didn’t pay much attention. 

Then came the memory in which synths were present. That perked him up. 

By now, he’d grown accustomed to being in that killer’s body, and having no control over 

his own actions. The room he was placed into that time was murky, set in some kind of reactor or other. A woman stood in front of him, with a number of skeletal synths behind her. 

“Mister Kellogg. I’m glad you decided to meet with me.”

“So… you fools do exist…”

The memory didn’t last long before it phased out, and Henry was thrown into yet another one he wasn’t eager to relive. 

_ “We’re running out of brain here… This one looks mostly intact. Connecting now _ .”

It was the Vault. As Henry walked by each of the pods in the preservation chamber, he searched for the number the Institute worker had given him for the subject. 

He stopped at Nora’s pod, labeled C6, and he issued the order to the Institute worker to open it. She pulled the lever upon the control panel, and the pod cracked open. 

The inhabitant wheezed as she woke up, and the baby in her arms wailed. Nora leaned against the backing of the pod. 

“Is it over? Are we okay?” Henry leaned up against the pod. 

“Almost.” The Institute worker held her arms out to reach for the baby. 

“Come here, baby…” Nora held the baby fast. 

“No, no, I’ve got him!” Henry scowled and held up his pistol, the sights lined up with Nora’s forehead. 

“Let the boy go. I’m only gonna tell you once!” Nora thrashed. 

“I’m not giving you Shaun!” He pulled the trigger. Nora’s head flew back, half her forehead utterly gone. Shaun screamed, and the Institute worker caught him before he could fall to the floor. 

“Dammit!” Henry hissed, and he looked to the backup, who howled and struggled in his chamber. “At least we still have the backup.”

  
  


The memory started to fade out again. Amari’s voice rang out from the void. 

_ “I’m… sorry you had to go through that again. I’ve found one more intact memory.  _

_ Connecting now.”  _ The familiar setting of Kellogg’s residence crept into Henry’s vision. He was sitting by his desk, examining his pistol, and he peered over the edge with a little smile to see a boy playing with some toy soldiers on the floor. 

The door opened, and a man in a black leather coat stepped in. 

“Kellogg,” the man greeted.

Henry squinted and holstered his gun. “One of these days, you’re gonna get your head blown off, just barging in here like that.” The man’s lip twisted up. 

“Minimizing my exposure to civilians-” Henry got up and waved him off. 

“Forget I said anything, Courser. What’s the big crisis this time?” The Courser grabbed a slip of paper from his coat pocket and handed it to him. Henry took it and unfolded it. 

“New orders for you, sir. One of our scientists has left the Institute. Henry raised a brow. 

“Left? As in…”

“Gone rogue. Name’s Doctor Brian Virgil. We know he’s hiding somewhere in the Glowing Sea. Everything we have on him is on that file.” Henry smirked. 

“Some heads are going to roll for this…” He scanned over the papers. “Capture and return, or elimination?”

“Elimination. He was working on a highly classified program.” Henry huffed. 

“No kidding. One of the top bioscience boys? Damn.” Then a thought occurred to him. “So, I guess you’re taking the kid back with you.” The Courser nodded. 

“Affirmative. Your only mission is to locate and eliminate Virgil.” The boy on the floor got up and gathered his toys in his arms. 

“Are you taking me to my father?” he asked. The Courser put a hand to his shoulder. 

“Yes. Stand still.” He lifted his hand to his wrist. “X6-88, ready to relay with Shaun.” Henry’s heart skipped. Shaun waved with a wide grin. “Bye, Mr. Kellogg! I hope I’ll see you again sometime!” 

Before Henry could say anything, the Courser and Shaun were gone in a blinding flash of blue light. He squinted. 

_ “Teleportation? Now it all makes sense! Nobody’s found the entrance to the Institute because there IS no entrance…” _

Henry’s vision whitened once more, and Amari’s voice came to him once again, but it didn’t register. He was back in the lounger, and Amari was there before him. The glass lifted off of him, and he heaved himself up to stagger to his feet.

Amari grabbed his arm to hold him up when his knees wobbled, and he groaned. 

“How do you feel?” He swallowed, trembling. 

“I’m… good enough.” He pushed himself away from her to stand on his own. 

Amari paused. “Are you… ready to talk about what happened in there?” Henry nodded. 

“We got what we needed; the Institute uses teleportation to get in and out.” Amari nodded. 

“Yes. Their greatest secret has been revealed, but that only leads to more questions; how does it work? Where do we go next?” Henry shrugged. 

“That scientist Kellogg mentioned was supposed to track down Virgil… I’ll need to find him, if he’s still around.” Amari nodded. 

“You’re right. A rogue Institute scientist could answer all kinds of questions. But where he’s located makes no sense. The Glowing Sea? No one goes there, not even if they were desperate.” Henry cocked his head. 

“Why? What is the Glowing Sea, why's it so dangerous?” Amari scoffed. 

“The name says it all: radiation. So much that nothing could possibly live there. Nothing…  _ pleasant _ , anyway. I can imagine navigating radioactive hazards is nothing new for you, but the Glowing Sea can kill a man in hours. That’s why it doesn’t make sense.” Henry straightened his cap. 

“If we need to find Virgil, then I’m going after him.” Amari ran a hand through her hair. 

“Very well, but if you’re going to go, be prepared. You’ll need some way to combat the radiation there.” Henry shrugged. 

“I’ll… I’ll find some way. Don’t worry.” Amari put her hand out. 

“Good luck, then. And be safe, darling.” Henry took it and shook. 

“Thanks.” He looked over at Nick’s lounger, only to find it empty. “Where’s Nick?”

“Oh, I unplugged Mister Valentine, first. Removed the implant while you were waking up. He’s upstairs,” she said. Henry bade her farewell, and he started up the stairs to the den. 

Nick was set patiently by the door, a cigarette in his lips. 

“What’s the word, champ?” Henry fitted his cap over his head. 

“Looks like I’m taking a little trip over to the Glowing Sea. Any ideas, Nicky?” Nick took a sharp breath through his teeth. 

“I guess you don’t have easy access to Power Armor, do you?”

“Power Armor?” Henry echoed. An idea crept to him. “I think I have some folks I can go to, who owe me a favor.” Nick gave him a thumbs-up as he rose up from the waiting room chair. 

“If you want me to come with you, you just say the word.” Henry shook his head.

“No, you have a business to get back to.” Nick puffed on his cigarette, and his lip curled up in a simper. 

“I see how it is!” he chortled. Henry sputtered to retort, only for Nick to wave him off. “I’m kidding, champ. I know it’s your personal business.” Henry put his hand out, and Nick took it. 

“I guess this is goodbye, then?” Nick squeezes his fingers and winked. 

“I guess. But if you need an extra gun, or just some company, don’t be shy.”


	8. Live Fast, Die Young

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was pretty rough, not gonna lie. I wasn't sure about posting it, but FUCK IT. I'm not going on another hiatus because I'll never get out of it. I'm seeing this one through, I swear.

Cambridge was in silence by the time Henry made it back there four afternoons following his departure from Goodneighbor. His blood burned, the crook of his right arm bruised from the needle he pressed in it just a few hours ago. He could feel the rage brewing just under the surface. It had already exploded once that morning, when Dogmeat tripped him by accident in his excitement. Henry didn't think weening was going to work, and knew well with disgust that the pharmacist had likely cheated him out of his money. 

That was the last self-proclaimed 'professional' he'd ever trust. 

The walls of the station were still standing upon his arrival, which he felt was a good sign, and from this distance, he could see an unarmored figure standing atop them. He held his head high, and he strode across the street. The figure, whom he realized to be Rhys, jolted and aimed his rifle. 

"Hands where I can see 'em, scavver!" Henry raised both of his arms over his head, his rifle still in his hands, and he uttered a "sit" command to Dogmeat, who plopped down on his backside. Rhys squinted, and he lowered his rifle a little bit. "Frederickson? What're you doing back here?" Henry scoffed.

"Oh, you know. Just was in the neighborhood, wanted to see your gorgeous face, you balding toddler." Rhys scowled. "Oh, you didn't miss me?" He went to say something, but went rigid when the front doors crashed open. The dull hum of a laser rifle gearing up to fire sounded from behind the wall.

"Rhys, what's wrong?"  _ Danse. _ Rhys pointed out to Henry. 

"The wastelander you took in came crawling back, Paladin. I was just sending him on his way." Danse came into view from behind the wall, still heavily armed and armored, still missing his hood, to have a look for himself. He frowned. 

"So he has." Henry nodded at him. "I thought you were off to Diamond City?" He shrugged. 

"I was." He took a deep breath. "Look, I need your help." 

"I'm not exactly in the position to lend a civilian a hand right now, Henry..." 

"Trust me, it's something you might wanna hear, but it's not exactly something I wanna say to the whole Commonwealth. Can we talk in the station?" 

Danse gave him an interested look, and he waved for Henry to follow him into the station. The two sat down at a table by the reception desk, and Henry pulled his cap off to smooth his hair back. 

"So, what is this that you'd think we'd be interested in?" Danse asked softly.

"I've got a strong lead on getting into the Institute. Since you said you were after them, I thought you'd might want to hear." The Paladin's dark eyes widened a little bit, but he didn't show any other emotion.

"Do you expect me to believe that? I'm sure you've heard the rumors regarding their organization as I have." Henry folded his arms over his chest.

"I tracked down an Institute assassin and got some information out of him about them, including how they get in and out of their headquarters. I woulda brought him with me, too, but he's dead, so..." Danse squinted. 

"What reason would  _ you _ even have to seek out the Institute in the first place? That would be a suicidal chase on anyone's part." Henry cracked his knuckles to hide a twitch.

"That assassin snatched my son out of the Vault and killed my wife, and I want my boy back." Danse's expression did not falter. "C'mon, Danse, you owe me! Besides, you said you're after 'em too, and with those reinforcements you called in, there has to be  _ something _ you can do." The Paladin gripped his chin with a hum.

"You have a point..." He leaned back from the table. "I  _ suppose _ I could arrange for you to meet with my commanding officer when I return to the Prydwen tomorrow."

" _ Prydwen?"  _ Henry echoed. Danse's face lit up a little for the first time since Henry met him.

"That airship we all saw, a masterpiece of Brotherhood engineering." Henry hummed.

"Alright, so… Say I get involved with you people. What then?" 

"I'm unsure, but with the information you claim to possess, my commanding officer, Elder Arthur Maxson, will want to organize the details with you, once you prove you can be trusted. The assistance you offered me before will certainly help you in that regard." Then he paused. "Though, I doubt he would be _joyful_ to have a citizen aboard the Prydwen. I would have to field-promote you as an Initiate, so that you will even be allowed an audience with him." Henry shrugged, and he gave Dogmeat a pat on the head. 

"We'll see. Won't we, boy?" Danse cleared his throat.

"I doubt you will be able to bring your dog with you, as well, given dogs aren't allowed aboard the Prydwen." Henry's heart sank. 

"So, what am I gonna do with him?" 

"I can take him." The two men looked over towards the reception desk, where Haylen was tooling around with a terminal. 

"You will?" She looked up from her work with a grin. 

"Rhys and I'll be getting a new field officer once the Paladin leaves for HQ, and we could always use an extra pair of eyes!" Henry scratched Dogmeat's ears. "Until you find someone who can take him, I'll watch him. That is, if you would allow it, Paladin Danse?" He and Haylen looked to Danse hopefully. Danse puffed, and though he hid his emotions well, he was unable to mask the amused crinkling of the corners of his eyes.

"I'll allow it, if that dog is given a valid occupation." Henry and Haylen beamed at each other. 

An uneventful day passed. Henry spent a sleepless night on the floor in the soldier's quarters, Dogmeat at his side. The sun had barely spread its light over the Commonwealth when Danse threw the door open as Henry stirred from a catnap. 

"Henry." Henry moaned and rose up from his bedding. Dogmeat perked his head up with a curious whine.

"Wha-"

"My transport is about to land. Gather your things and meet me on the roof, we're moving out in ten minutes." Henry gave him an absent nod, and he stretched. Danse slammed the door shut, and Henry got up to grab his duffle bag and rifle. As he staggered out the door, pulling his boot on, the whole building trembled. Danse was just striding up the stairs by the door to the roof. 

Henry slapped his cap down onto his head and followed him, his things slung over his shoulder. The stairs led up to the roof where a gun-bearing helicopter had just landed. No introductions were made before Danse hauled himself in, then grabbed Henry's outstretched arm to pull him up. Once Henry was situated in the copter with a strap pulled over his waist, Danse gave the pilot the command to lift off. 

The ride itself was as uneventful as the night before, though horridly long and dull, for Danse went on and on about the Brotherhood's quota. Henry focused more on not letting his things fall out of the recklessly-flown craft than the Paladin's preaching. He was fairly sure the pilot was drunk, judging by how she slurred over her radio. 

Danse suddenly grabbed Henry's shoulder as they passed over the ruins of Bunker Hill, to which Henry squeaked.

"Lancer-Captain Kells and Elder Maxson will want to speak to you upon arrival. Just stick close to me and answer all of their questions," he barked over the roaring of the copter's engine. Henry gave him a thumbs-up. "This is important: I have field-promoted you to Initiate and sent my report in ahead of time, so you need to watch your tone with our superior officers from now on." His grip tightened with bruising strength, but Henry couldn't tell if it was intentional or not, given the Paladin's armor. " _ Including with me _ ." Henry sighed. 

"Understood,  _ sir." _ He figured he could stomach some suck-up, if he wasn't going to be here for long. They passed over Bunker Hill and most of Old Boston before Henry caught sight of the Boston Airport, and the silhouette of the airship, in the distance.

When they arrived at the ruins of Boston Airport in the late evening, he could barely keep his jaw taut when he saw the Prydwen up close. It was something out of a science-fiction film, a colossus of steel and weaponry the likes of which Henry had never seen before, lit up like Sirius in the night sky. There were soldiers in Power Armor scaling the outside of the Prydwen's hull as they cleaned it, and in spite of their broad statures in their suits, they were like roaches in comparison to the airship. A half-dozen helicopters were hooked onto the bridge directly below the hull, and the pilot prepared to join them. 

"Might get a little rough, fellas. Hold on!" 

The copter roared and trembled as it began to latch onto the ship. When the helicopter stopped its tremors, the pilot gave them the all-clear. 

"Alright, fellas, yer good to go," she whuffed. Danse gave her a taciturn nod, and started to haul himself out of the copter. Henry followed him onto the vertibird deck, and the pilot prepared to take off again. They didn't make it much further than the middle of the bridge when a man, an officer, judging by his cap and embroidered coat, strode out from the flight-deck to greet them. 

His dark complexion was leathery, yet newly cleaned and shaved. He had a number of scars, as well; one on his cheek, and a notable dent in his dominant hand from an ancient bullet wound. There was a laser pistol holstered on his hip, and two combat knives strapped to his thigh, though the weapons weren't necessary. Henry was fairly sure only a look from him could stall a Super Mutant dead.

Danse saluted to him when he met them on the bridge, a fist clenched over his chest, and bowed his head. 

"Captain Kells." Kells saluted back. 

"Welcome back, Paladin, and congratulations on a successful mission." 

"Thank you, sir." Kells gave Henry a head-to-toe scan with a hum. 

"And this is our new recruit, then?" Danse dipped his head in a nod. 

"Yes sir." 

"Good, he's be all set to move into his new quarters. Now, we've reviewed your reports, and you'll be pleased to know that Elder Maxson has approved your request regarding sponsorship. You'll be given the details when you report to the Proctors," Kells murmured. Danse's face lit up a little, but he didn't let it show through for more than a moment. 

"Thank you, sir. And my current orders?"

"You are to remain on the Prydwen and await further instruction." 

"Affirmative, sir." They exchanged salutes again.  _ "Ad Victoriam."  _

" _ Ad Victoriam,  _ Paladin. Dismissed." Danse turned on his heel, and he strode up to the flight deck. Henry watched him momentarily before Kells caught his attention, "So, Initiate,  _ you're _ the one Paladin Danse took under his wing? You don't look like a soldier to me." Henry squinted. 

"What's a soldier supposed to look like, then, Captain?" Kells scoffed. 

"A  _ soldier  _ is meant to be efficient killing machine, not a relic from the past playing 'catch-up' with the world, nor some attitudinal scrap we picked up out of the wasteland. If Danse hadn't stepped in and vouched for you, we wouldn't even be having this conversation." Henry frowned, confused, but said nothing about it. "Accepting wastelanders like yourself has proven disastrous in the past, but Danse thinks you'll be useful to us. 

"Before you get on your high horse, knowing that, let me make one thing clear: Danse's approval won't grant you much latitude with us. The Brotherhood of Steel has come to the Commonwealth with a specific goal in mind, and I won't allow anyone to jeopardize our mission, no matter how valuable they think they are. Understood, Initiate?" Henry nodded, and imitated the salute demonstrated by the Paladin, past the gear he had heaped on his shoulders.

"Understood, Captain." Kells nodded. 

"Good. For now, you are to meet with Elder Maxson and introduce yourself, then receive further instruction from him. Dismissed."

Henry followed Danse's trail into the flight deck, and was pointed by one of the sentries to the command deck at the very front of the airship. Before he went in, he put his things down by the door. By the window of the deck, a ridiculously young man with a half-shaved head and a long leather coat was looming over the airport. He had a fierce set of hawkish eyes sunken deeply into his scarred face, and was masked by a dark beard, though he wasn't nearly as off-putting as old Kells. 

He looked Henry up and down when the wastelander sauntered in, a scowl knitting his brow. Henry pressed his shoulders back and saluted.

"Ah, you're Initiate Frederickson." Henry gave him a nod. "I am Elder Arthur Maxson, the Prydwen's commander." Maxson then snorted. "It seems you just missed the address regarding the point of our mission. I expect Danse made our mission clear to you on the way here?" Henry gave him another nod. 

"Yes, sir, he did."

"Good. Then you know our target is the Institute?" 

"Yes, sir." Henry paused. "If I may, sir…" Maxson raised a brow. "My purpose with your Brotherhood does involve the Institute, and I was hoping to work out a deal with you, in exchange for my information..." The Elder scoffed. 

"We do not  _ work out deals _ here, Initiate. We have other goals in mind before we tackle anything about the Institute," he snapped. Henry flinched. "Danse mentioned you have some information to share with us about our common enemy, and we will certainly get to that, but for now, we have other things to arrange since our arrival in the Commonwealth. Regarding your position with us, I will be blunt, as I have much to attend to. I've read Paladin Danse's  _ exceedingly _ positive reports about you. 

"Given he is one of my most respected field officers, you couldn't get a better recommendation. Therefore, from this moment on, I am granting you the rank of Knight, and befitting of this rushed promotion of yours, you will given your own suit of Power Armor to protect you in battle." There went his concerns about the Glowing Sea. Henry forced out his most submissive confidence. 

"T-thank you, sir. I'll do my best for you." 

"I'm certain you will." Maxson cleared his throat. "In any event, I expect you to take the rest of this evening to set up your quarters. In the morning, you will meet my staff and have your medical examination conducted, and you will meet with me on the bridge for your new orders by nine o' clock." Maxson saluted him, and Henry returned it. "Welcome aboard the Prydwen, Knight. Make us proud. Dismissed."

Henry left the command deck, grabbed up his things, and scaled up the steel ladder that stood just before it. Just as he clambered up into the heart of the airship, an announcement from Captain Kells blared out and made his head pound.

He groaned and ran his hand through his hair when he reached the top of the ladder. With no idea as to where to go first, he started down the hall that cut through the Prydwen's hull. The lights were so horribly bright, and he cringed as he passed under each one. He could hear his blood throbbing in his ears, and his heart was hurtling a mile a minute as he tried his best to seem outwardly normal. 

He just had to find the barracks. He just needed to sleep and hopefully wouldn't die during the night.

He ended up in what seemed to be a mess hall, crowded with all matter of soldiers who were too tucked into their meals to speak to each other. Henry couldn't have cared less about food at that point, but he was parched, so he strode over to the mess hall's officer to request a water. 

He was given a paper cup that he gulped down in two swallows, having realized the water was  _ clean _ . He leaned against the counter after he downed his drink and rubbed his face to hide a shiver, thankful the officer wasn't paying attention. He closed his eyes and sighed, willing away his headache. 

"Initiate." He jolted, and he looked up to see Danse striding towards him, out of his armor and in grease-stained jeans and a dusty t-shirt. Henry choked a little on his water and straightened his stance. "Did you speak to Elder Maxson?" 

"Yes, sir. Apparently, I'm a  _ Knight _ , now." Danse raised his brows.

"Outstanding." He flattened his shirt. "Have you met with the Prydwen's staff yet?" Henry shook his head. 

"Elder said I'm to do it in the morning, before I report to him." He paused. "You wouldn't know where the barracks are, would you?" Danse snorted, and he waved for Henry to follow him. The two left the mess hall to go back towards the command deck, then turned up a set of stairs to ascend higher into the hull. Henry expected the long row of bunks he was met with to be his destination, but, to his surprise, he was led away from there to a row of doors on the other end of the barracks. Danse stopped at one of them, fished a key out of his pocket, and tipped it open when it was unlocked. 

Henry came in and edged his duffle bag back up onto his shoulder to more easily carry his rifle. The room had a single bunk bed, and had a number of shelves with various modding materials and work-in-progress guns stored on them. A realization came to Henry, then, that more or less unsettled him, as Danse rooted around in the locker at the foot of the bed. 

"This is...your room, isn't it?" Danse paused before he tossed a ratty blanket up onto the top bunk.

"You weren't told? I applied to sponsor you. We'll be sharing quarters from now on." Henry looked at him strangely.

" _ Sponsor?"  _ he echoed. 

"Elder Maxson believes soldiers need to have tight bond to fight efficiently, so he pairs officers with newcomers for the first few months. That means we train together, sleep together, and go on missions and patrols together." Henry paled a little. 

"So, we're attached at the hip, then?" Danse gave him a nod, and he went on to finished setting up the bunk.

"Essentially. Now, I need to make something abundantly clear…" He gave Henry a sharp look over his shoulder. "Because I'm your sponsor and since I've been cutting so many corners for you, if you screw up, we both go down, which brings me to my second point…" He crouched to grab something out of his locker, clenched it in a closed fist, and he rose back up to turn to Henry. "Use of wasteland chems are strictly prohibited in the Brotherhood. If you get caught with unauthorized drugs in your possession or blood, or have an addiction of any kind, we  _ both _ get thrown out. Do you understand?" Henry went red, and clenched his fists.

"Look, I'm trying to get clean, alright? Taking that Psycho was an accident, I thought it was a stim-" Danse offered up what he'd pulled out of his locker, a little inhaler that was a tad dinged up with a mildly rusted canister. Henry stared at it. "The hell is this?" 

"Addictol." Henry's gut twisted. "It should completely clear up your withdrawal symptoms and make you come out clean when Knight-Captain Cade tests you tomorrow." He took it from him and examined it.

"So… Just one hit, and… gone?" 

"Exactly." Henry went to thank him, but Danse cut him off. "Don't thank me. I only grabbed that for you so you wouldn't get us both in trouble, and if I find you've turned to chems again after his, I won't hesitate to report you. Do we understand each other?" Henry sighed. 

"Yes, sir. Understood." 

"Good." He then gestured to the bunk he just made up. "The top bunk is yours, as well as the locker on the other side of the bed. Role is at 4 AM, mess hall opens at 4:30. Supply patrols change out by 5, but Maxson has an assignment for us after you meet the Proctors, so we'll be excused from them tomorrow. I expect you to get yourself up on time."

"Okay, but why're you doing all this for me, if you love your job so much? This wasn't part of the deal, I just needed to get here." Danse folded his arms. 

"Because you're a means to an end we likely wouldn't have access to otherwise, and I would make any sacrifice to ensure our success here. Don't take it personally in any regard." Henry snuffed. 

"Fine by me." 

He hauled himself up into his bed after he hung his duffle bag on the bedpost and took his medicine. While he nestled down in the most comfortable bed he'd laid in since the bombs fell, Danse busied himself with organizing his guns and modding materials. Henry watched him idly, waiting for his nausea to ease. 

He once thought Danse was compensating for something, given Henry had never seen him out of his armor until now, but if he did, Henry didn't see what he was hiding. He was broad, strong, narrow-waisted, and barrel-chested, not unlike a lifelong farm-worker. While he wasn't nearly as towering as he was in his armor, his height and stature were nothing to sneeze at. To top it off, he had the ass of a god. Henry went to snicker at that perverted thought, but disguised it as a cough, and rolled over, the sickening delerium from the Addictol already setting in. 

He didn't even want to know what he was getting into, next. He just hoped it didn't involve a drug-seeking soothsayer and stimpaks. 


	9. Mutually Intended Destruction

An alarm blared over the loudspeaker that nearly had Henry falling out of his bunk, and he righted himself upon the edge with a gasp. 

_ "All Prydwen-bound soldiers, report to the mess hall in ten minutes for roll. Repeat, report to the mess hall in ten minutes for roll."  _ He sighed, and he slowly slid down from the top bunk and hit the ground with wince, having expected the vertigo and nausea. 

He was met with no such ailment. 

He huffed, and he shook his head to test the limits of his stability. He had only a slight headache that faded after a second. He paused for a moment, then focused his sights on the bed, then quickly switched his door. No spasms. He smiled a little, then went straight-faced when he spotted a neatly-written note on the door. He grabbed it from the magnet that held it up and scanned it. 

_ "Your uniform is in your footlocker. I neglected to mention it last night. My mistake." _

Henry snorted and stuffed the note into his pocket, then rushed to find and put on his uniform before role. That uniform turned out to be essentially a skin-tight bodysuit with a collar, but he donned it with a grimace and went bolting out the door to get to the mess hall. 

Roll was just as tedious as Henry remembered it in the army. Everyone, save for the lesser officers, wore the standard Brotherhood uniform, and most everyone looked the same, though Henry was happy he could at least keep his hat on, nor did he have to shave his head. He hadn't had a shower since the bombs fell, and his hair looked like an osprey's nest. By 4:15 AM, role was finished, and all the soldiers were sent to the food counter by order of height, tallest first. Just like back in the army. As such, Henry was near the back of the line. 

His breakfast was chowed down in less than five minutes. It wasn't  _ bad _ , about the same quality as army food.  _ That _ was until he got a whiff of the eggs. He didn't like eggs anymore.

Following his questionable meal, he was off to meet the heads of each department. 

There was Proctor Quinlan, the director of patrols and the commanding officer of the Field Scribes. He reminded Henry quite a bit of a cat; the man was remarkably intelligent, yet made it clear he hated people, and likely also his job. He was extremely dismissive and snarky, as well, having talked down to Henry as if he were an idiot child. The only useful information Henry really got out of him before he was kicked out of the office was that he was the one to go to for his weekly patrols.

Then there was Proctor Ingram, the legless veteran hoisted in a Power Armor frame whom Henry had found to be much more inviting than Quinlan, if not a little cynical. When Henry approached her, she was tooling away on a busted T-60 leg for an impatient Knight, mumbling and cursing the soldier who'd rendered the armor useless. 

"Name's Ingram," she huffed, and she gestured to the armor depot before she rubbed a black smudge from her face. "and this lovely little _grease_ _pit_ is where you'll usually find me. If your Power Armor is too tight in the crotch, the Prydwen's about to blow up, or a robot's gone haywire, you come to me." Henry gave her a nod with a hum, then cracked a grin. 

"Well, my car's making this weird noise when I back it out of the driveway, if you wouldn't mind taking a look at it." Ingram snorted. 

"Take a number, kid. There ain't a day that goes by on this rusty tub without five or six things breaking down." She then took a look at the frame that served as her legs. "And since I'm not quite as spry as I used to be… the work tends to pile up." Henry sniffed. 

"A-actually, Proctor, you look like you're getting around pretty well." She shrugged, and gave the armor she was working on a good smack to get the knee joint unstuck. 

"Better than the alternative." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, you're probably here to get your hands on some armor, huh?" She pointed to one of the bays in along the wall, labelled with a number '3' on the floor. "I've got a decent T-60 over there with your name on it. Left leg actuator's a little sticky, but it'll keep the Ghouls off ya. Mods are fine, so long as I can reverse 'em if they mess up.  _ And don't paint it pink.  _ Had a Knight do that  _ once, _ never heard the end of it from Maxson." Henry snickered. "Sorry to be blunt, but I've gotta get back to work. If you haven't met old Teagan yet, he's just at the far end of the grease pit. Give him a hello for me, would you?"

"Understood, Proctor." Ingram gave him a thumbs-up. 

Proctor Teagan was certainly a spectacle, so much so, Maxson apparently locked the poor fool up in their armory to prevent any thefts. At least he still had his legs. The man leaned against the counter to give Henry a quick scan. 

"Welcome to the stowage depot, my fellow maggot," he grumbled. "I'm the Prydwen's quartermaster, Proctor Teagan. If you need supplies before an assignemnt, you buy 'em here." Henry bit his cheek. 

"With all respect, Proctor, since when does the military sell vital equipment to its own soldiers?" Teagan snuffed and stroked his greying goatee.

" _ Since someone dropped a whole buncha bombs on every single factory in the Commonwealth that manufactured weapons and ammunition,"  _ he spat. "Keeping the Brotherhood supplied takes a lot of caps… and everyone contributes to the cause, kid. Make sense, kiddo?" 

"Sounds good, Proctor."

"Good. Now, did you get your exam done, yet?" Henry went a little pale.

"No, sir." Teagan pointed down the hall, past Ingram's post. 

"Then get down to Captain Cade immediately for detox and the piss test." 

"Yes, sir."

Cade, the Prydwen's medic, was a bit of a wet noodle, compared to the other department heads, but Henry supposed he was better company than the pompous Quinlan and the bitter Teagan. He was asked a number of questions related to his past wellbeing, such as his chances of having an STD, whether or not he'd banged a Ghoul, if he'd been exposed to extreme radiation for long periods of time. Nothing Henry really found out of the ordinary for such a strange, deep-fried world, until the last question came up. 

"I need you to answer this honestly, Knight." Henry cocked his head. 

"Okay…"

"For any reason, if a Brotherhood soldier were to turn traitor, would you stand to end his life?" the doctor asked.

"That's a question of morals, sir, not about my health." Cade gave him an expectant gander. Henry coughed. " Well, I mean, I would, if my life or someone else's depended on it." Cade gave him a look over his clipboard, then shrugged. 

"That's the most common answer I get." He checked a few things off from his paper, then strode over to his desk for a cup. Following the collection of a sample and a follow-up dose of "Rad-Away," Henry was sent out to report to Maxson for his first actual assignment, for the time had just struck 8:15. Henry just hoped he would pee clean as Danse had promised.

Maxson was out on the bridge with the Paladin when Henry found him, overlooking the airport as they spoke. Henry didn't even have to make his presence known for Maxson to notice him, and he and Danse ceased their chatting. 

"Ah, good, you're early. I take it you're ready to start your assignment?" Henry nodded. 

"Yes, Elder." Maxson waved for Henry to come over to the siderail, and he pointed down at a small island about a mile from the airport, just barely visible through the mist. 

"That down there is a location we look to secure; Fort Strong, a Pre-War military base, and it's infested with Super Mutants." Henry gulped. "Having those aberrations of nature close enough to smell makes me sick to my stomach. And to make matters worse, they're sitting on a massive stockpile of Fat Man shells that we could use on our campaign." Henry stared at him. His fingertips went cold.

" _ Fat Man _ shells? As in  _ mini-nukes?" _

"Exactly. You orders are to head over there with the Paladin, wipe out everything that  _ moves  _ on that island, and secure that stockpile. Understood?" Henry gave him a nod, and a salute.

"Consider it done, sir." Maxson saluted back. 

"We have a vertibird on standby, armed with a minigun. At nine o'clock, it will depart and you carry out your orders. Until that time, get your gear ready for the misson. We'll discuss your  _ deal  _ when you return." He then gave Danse a nod and a little smile. "Paladin Danse, I trust you'll enjoy this mission." Danse saluted. 

"Of course, sir." 

"You're both dismissed."

Henry hauled rear-end up to Ingram's department for his armor and his rifle, though he didn't have any money to buy more fusion cells from Teagan. He just hoped that fifty would be enough with the aid of a minigun. 

By the time Henry had his armor readied, the vertibird Maxson promised him had loaded up onto the Prydwen's bridge. Danse already hauled himself in, and Henry plodded up in there with him, lacking grace of any kind. It seemed he had to re-learn the art of using Power Armor and breathing in that stuffy helmet. He sighed, and he held onto the minigun displayed on the side door. 

The pilot, who was thankfully not the same as the drunk who'd picked them up from Cambridge, went through his controls, then went to his radio. He then hung it up, and readied himself. 

"Green for release, fellas. Target is 1.24 miles away, estimated arrival in three minutes." The vertibird was lowered from the rack. Once he had it steady in the air, he started down towards the shoreline. 

"Lancer," Danse called over the roaring engine. "During your recon, did you spot anything of concern at the base?"

"Looks like I drew out a lot of muties from the base, sir, so you should be able to gun 'em down from up here."

"Outstanding."

"I'll warn you, sir, I think I saw a Behemoth movin' around down there, too, but I couldn't tell. Too foggy this mornin'." Henry gave Danse a look. 

"Wait, what's a Behemoth?" Danse scoffed under his helm. 

"A Super Mutant that's been around for a very long time, and has grown to incredible size, as a result. They've lost their human intellect, but prove to be more resilient than anything else I've faced." Henry cringed.

"And I thought that one in Boston was bad…" he mumbled. 

Fort Strong drew close, and as they did so, a massive figure started moving among the rubble. Danse cursed, and he lifted up the minigun on his side of the vertibird.

"Henry, ready your weapon. Fire on the Behemoth as soon as it enters your sights." Henry grabbed his by its handle and aimed at the mass that stirred in the fog. Some smaller silhouettes started moving around on the ground, as well. 

"Alright, fellas, your main target has been acquired. I'll try to keep him in your sights."

The craft circled around the old base until the soldiers had a clear eye on the Behemoth. Henry took a deep breath, took aim, and squeezed the trigger under his palm. The Behemoth roared, and it picked up a piece of broken road to hurl at the vertibird just as the gun spun up to fire. It missed.

The bullets tore out of the barrel and pelted the colossus, but it didn't even seem fazed at that distance. The vertibird circled around the fort in the opposite direction to let Danse have a go. Round after round was spent by both of them, yet they'd barely made a dent in the mutant's armor. Stone after stone was hurled at them in return. A luckily-aimed chunk of rock slammed into the side of the copter, sending the craft to spin mid-air. Discolored fluid burst out of the cracks

"Goddammit! It hit the fuel tank!" He started scanning over the landscape, then pointed down at a flat area on the waterline. "I'm gonna land it down there before we burn. Hit anything that comes your way!" The two soldiers gave him an acknowledgement, and Henry fired at any of the smaller mutants that came running over to the downed aircraft.

He managed to get three down before the Behemoth came tromping over. With the sights lined up at the freak's head, he squeezed the handle. A torrent of bullets, now at close range, ripped through its flesh like paper, and when it went down onto a knee, it's face was peeled back until bone was exposed. The gunfire suddenly came to term. Henry jolted, and he fumbled for a reload. The devastating injury he'd dealt out certainly slowed the abomination down, but he hadn't bought himself enough time. Before he could stuff any ammunition into the chamber, the Behemoth rose up again, and came charging and screaming. 

Henry froze. 

Suddenly, there was a crack behind him, and he just he looked, Danse sprang up from his position, his minigun in his grip. He shoved Henry down and aimed at the mutant's head. The gun spun up, and fired. The barrage of bullets didn't stop the Behemoth immediately, but after a moment, it went down on its knees again, then finally fell to its back, sending up a cloud of dust upon its collapse.

Once it was certain the thing was dead, Danse dropped the minigun that he'd ripped from the door and sent Henry a nasty glare through his visor. 

"Why didn't you reload while we were in the air?" 

"I was focusing more on not falling out of this damned thing!" The Lancer sent them both red-faced stares as he desperately tried to contact Kells. Danse didn't take much longer than that to deride his sponsee, and he grabbed his rifle from his side of the gunship. 

"Get your gun, now. We're going in." Henry pulled his rifle out from under the frame of the minigun and followed after the Paladin. On the way up the road to the base itself, mutants nearing a dozen in number came running out of the various ruins along the path. 

While most of them didn't prove to be very tough at a close range fire-fight, they came fast and strong. As Henry was fighting off one that made the mistake of coming in close, it grabbed him by his face-piece and smashed his visor with its fist. Without thinking, Henry pressed the muzzle of his rifle into the mutant's gut and fired, leaving a bloody, fried mess all over the rifted pavement. 

Danse took another head-on that he managed to shove it off its feet, and crushed its skull under his boot. The few others that kept a distance roared for their comrades in the fort to assist them, but they were only met with lasers to the backs of their pinheads when they turned to run, leaving the ruined yard in silence. 

When he was sure no more were going to come out, Henry ripped his helm off and swept the broken glass out of his face, thankful no shards had gotten in his eyes, and threw it back on after he cleared the visor's frame. 

They went charging into the fort, but weren't met with much, other than two stragglers immediately beyond the door. Henry hoped they had sent all their sentries out to fight, and that those in the yard were the end of it. The smell that emitted from the bags of carrion hung from the ceiling had him fighting to hold his composure without his visor, and he hummed to stifle his gag reflex as Danse led him down the main hallway. 

"Should you find anything of use in here, be sure to take it with you for the Proctors on the way back. Proctor Quinlan pays a good bit of money in exchange for schematics," Danse murmured, and he stopped at a door to fumble with the knob, then shoved his armored fist through it when it proved difficult. 

"That's one way to do it…" Henry mused. The room was unoccupied, not mottled by blood or bags of meat, unlike the rest of Fort Strong. The smell, while still present, was certainly more bearable than in the rest of the place, as well. There were a number of overturned desks scattered throughout the room, and Danse righted one so he could open and rifle through it. 

Henry went over to another and opened one of the drawers to find a dingy book with a missing cover. He picked it up and flipped through it, only to very soon realize it was a compilation of the worst puns he'd ever read. He grinned and stuffed it into the storage compartment in his armor, then went back to helping Danse look for documents.

They didn't find anything that wasn't completely blackened by mold, so they went on down the hallway in further search of the stockpile. At the very end of the hall, behind some rubble, there was an elevator. Henry pressed the button. A moment passed. It lit up, dinged, and the door opened. 

When they hit the lower floor, they were met with a stench that utterly trumped that of the upstairs. It even had Danse retching in his mask. 

"Looks like they've hoarded down here, too…" Henry choked. Danse groaned. 

"It's a wonder they even figured out that elevator."

"Well, let's just hope they don't have too many left down here."

They strode along the hallway that wound around a large room where Henry spied a few crates with vibrant warning labels. Of course, four of those green-tinged mutants hung around them, mumbling to themselves and whatnot. Danse stopped by the door that would lead into them, and he motioned for Henry to come in close. 

"We both shoot at the ones nearest to us. You take the one on the right, I take the one on the left," he whispered. "We take the other two head-on." He paused. "And try not to get grabbed by the face this time, yeah?" Henry scowled at him through his visor. 

"Yeah, sure thing, _pretty-boy_." That last bit was no more than a mumble. Danse gave him a strange look. 

"What did you just…?" He shook his head. "Oh, nevermind. Just fire at my signal." Henry gave him a thumbs-up and readied his rifle. Danse kept his hand raised, analyzing the scene, rifle in his arms. He then sent Henry a look through his visor, his finger edged the trigger, and he bobbed his head toward the threshold. Henry nodded, and he pressed the butt of his gun into the crook of his arm. 

Danse fired, and Henry followed up on his own target. Their heads exploded, and they went down in silence. The other two startled and yelped, and they whipped around on their bloated heels to see the two soldiers that came charging in. Henry leaped out the one nearest to him, tackled it to the ground, clasped his armored fists together, raised them, and smashed them down onto the mutant's head. 

It didn't even have the chance to fight back before Henry pummeled it again and again. It soon fell still, it's skull squished to bits. He got up from the ground and shook his hands off to clean them of the blood and bone shards. Danse had just finished bludgeoning his own victim with the butt of his rifle, and he swept some of the carnage off of it. 

"Alright…" Henry huffed. "I'll look around, make sure there aren't any more." Danse dipped his head in a nod. 

"That would be wise." 

There wasn't much to search. There was one back room that was blocked off that no mutant would fit into if he tried his best. Henry was just glad the soldier's touch was coming back to him. He couldn't believe he'd made such a mistake in the vertibird, not having even thought of reloading his gun before he was made vulnerable. He shook his head to ignore the humiliation of being scolded by a superior officer, and he stuck his head into the blocked room to have a look. There were no mutants within, so he shrugged under his dented armor, and stepped back out to give Danse a thumbs-up. 

"I think we're good." 

The Paladin was sifting through the remains of the mutant Henry had bludgeoned with the toe of his boot, his lip twisted up a the slightest ghost of a smirk. 

"If I didn't know any better, I would say you hate these things as much as I do." Henry came plodding over to look over the beaten corpse.

"I was just following orders." He took a breath through his mouth as to not get as much of the smell of the carrion. "I meant to ask, why do you hate 'non-humans' so much?" Danse lowered his rifle, and though Henry couldn't see those dark eyes, he could feel that glare burning through him. The Paladin then sighed. 

"I've lost a close friend to these mutants before, so when you ask if I hate them, I say 'hate' is too gentle a word. They're just another example of man blindly taking a step forward, only to wind up stumbling two steps back." Henry swallowed thickly. He could  _ taste  _ Danse's temper riling. "I've seen what these mutants do to people. Can you  _ imagine _ what the synths could do to us if they got the upper hand?" Danse then caught himself, and he took a slow, solemn breath to regain his composure. "Look, I don't mean to bore you with my rhetoric. You just need to understand how important these missions are." Henry pulled his helmet off to rub his face. 

"Trust me, I get it like you can't even believe." The Paladin hummed, and cleared his throat.

"In any case, what matters is that this operation was a success, and we've secured these warheads. Head up to the Prydwen while I supervise the weapons. I'm sure the Elder wants to debrief you as soon as possible." He saluted. "Dismissed." 

By the time Henry had made it to the shoreline, a vertibird was already en route to the fortress, giving him a mercifully short wait to be picked up. He could barely stand the stench of those mutants any longer. Maxson was waiting for him upon the bridge when Henry returned, and he sent Henry a salute as the vertibird latched onto the hull. 

"Outstanding work at Fort Strong, soldier. Paladin Danse has already radioed in a brief report." Henry dipped his head in thanks as soon as he hauled himself out of the copter.

"What happens at Fort Strong now, sir?" Maxson led him over to the far end of the bridge to overlook the military base. A number of vertibirds were landing there as they spoke, presumably to pick up the bombs. 

"The Paladin is supervising the transfer of the shells to the Prydwen. I've also ordered a detachment to occupy the location and use it as a staging area to protect the eastern side of the airport." He sent Henry a soft glance. "All-in-all, you essentially handed us a valuable location and proven you can be trusted. Therefore, I am willing to hear out the information you claim to have about our common enemy." Henry's heart leaped into his throat. 

"O-of course, sir, I'll tell you everything I know." Maxson gave him a cock of his head; a signal for him to continue. "I tracked down one of the Institute's favorite lackeys a few weeks ago, and questioned him about their whereabouts. He didn't know where they were, but he did know as to how they get in and out of their headquarters." The Elder's brow knitted. 

"He knows their entrance, but not their location?" he queried. "How is that possible, Knight?"

"No one can find the entrance because there  _ isn't  _ an entrance. Their synths teleport in and out of their facility so they can't be tracked." Maxson gazed at him as Henry had just grown a third eye. 

"And you know this… how?"

"Because I've seen it myself, sir, after that mercenary had a conversation with a synth. It's insane, I know, but it just is." He sighed, and he looked out over the sea before he returned his eyes to the Knight. 

"Very well. Assuming what you're saying holds true, how can we take advantage of this information? Teleportation is out of the Brotherhood's reach." 

"I have a lead on a guy, Brian Virgil, who was a top-dog in the Institute, but I can't get to him without the Brotherhood's help."

"How so?"

"Last anyone's heard, he's holed himself up in the Glowing Sea. Not even the Institute could track his exact location, so I'm going to need some help finding him, if he's even alive." Maxson hummed. 

"I see." He puffed up his stance. "Is there anything else you've to report, Knight?"

"No, sir. The mercenary died before I could get much out of him. That's all we have to work with, for now." Maxson gave Henry a nod. 

"Very well. You will receive your payment from this mission soon. For now, you may return to the barracks to bathe. Come to the command deck after roll tomorrow morning, and we will speak with Paladin Danse and Lancer-Captain Kells to work out a plan." He saluted. "Good work, Knight. Dismissed."

Henry dropped his armor off in the arms department and left his smashed helm for Ingram to fix before he sauntered over towards Cade's office for the showers. The locker room was almost empty, save for one or two soldiers who were just changing into their nightclothes. He grabbed a towel, freshly-cleaned, he noted, and strode toward an empty shower. For the first minute or so, he just stood under the showerhead, relishing in the warmth of the scalding, running, non-irradiated water he thought he'd never feel again. 

His hair was so oily, it looked damp, even though it was bone dry, given he never even had the chance to wash out the two-hundred-year-old gell. He scoffed a little, then let out a choked laugh at that. What a cruel prank fate had played on him. He sniffed, and focused on working out the third round of soap through his hair so he could get to bed. 


	10. Advice to Clarke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH IM SORRY, WRITERS BLOCK WAS KICKING ME IN THE BACKSIDE
> 
> But we’re back now, so yayyy
> 
> Thanks for bearing with me, my dearest few readers ;-; The hard times are over. Expect more stuff more often

Henry woke up again with a goddamn heart attack following the roll announcement. The temptation to strangle Lancer-Captain Kells ran strong in him for a moment, but he didn't ponder much on it, and he leapt out of his bunk to yank his uniform on. Danse was already up and out, given their shared room was empty when Henry woke up. 

Three days had passed since he and his superior officers had convened to figure out what to do about Brian Virgil. After an hour of spitballing and debating, it was agreed that a group of Scribes and Knights would be sent out into the Glowing Sea to recon and try to narrow down his location. Danse and Henry would then be sent out to speak with him personally.

The team had been sent out the morning after the plan had been decided, and so far, no dice. Henry had already gone out on patrol the previous day, and now that he was left on standby, he had nothing to do after roll.  _ That  _ was until Maxson changed his mind and sent Danse to Quinlan to handle a "situation." Henry, now attached to the Paladin's hip, had to tag along.

Quinlan was just as quick-mouthed as in Henry's first encounter, scrambling around his office and occasional tripping over his cat as he (quite sharply) made the Knight wait. That was until Danse cleared his throat, to which the bitter Proctor immediately cleaned up his act and addressed their queries with striking articulance. 

"Elder Maxson mentioned you needed me?" Danse asked. Quinlan hummed and started scanning through the schedules on his desk, then paused at one, and pulled it up. 

"We have a pressing matter that needs to be dealt with  _ delicately _ ," he said and straightened his glasses. 

"Proctor, with all respect, the Elder said we aren't supposed to leave the base for anything but patrols…" Henry cut in. Quinlan gazed at him over the rims of his specs, and he handed Danse the papers. 

"We don't believe this will require you two to leave the airport." Danse squinted as he scanned over the papers. 

"Logistics has a  _ thief _ on their hands? Have you any suspects, Proctor?" Quinlan gripped his chin and sighed. 

"Given this may be a matter of treason, we are either sure, or not. I'm afraid everyone aboard is a suspect until the issue is resolved, though Lancer-Captain Kells thinks it may be an…  _ inside job _ ." 

Henry and Danse looked at each other. 

"Can we figure this out before the recon team comes back, sir?" To call him "sir" still felt so strange. The Paladin looked over the papers again, and his scowl darkened. 

"I'm not about to stand idly by while a traitor steals away our rations..." Quinlan nodded.

"Good to hear, Paladin. Report to Gavil, then, and have him explain the situation in further detail."

Henry didn't look forward to having to take a vertibird just to get in and out of the Prydwen, given the pilot was the drunk who picked him up from Cambridge. Blessedly, it seemed it was early enough in the afternoon that she hadn't yet picked up the bottle, for the descent to the warehouse was fairly smooth. When they got out of the copter, Danse, in his armor, had bumped into the gun on the door, so he stayed behind to adjust it while Henry went ahead to address the situation with the Logistics team's supervising officer. 

The Knight Sergeant, Gavil, made Quinlan seem friendly. At least Quinlan offered a greeting when addressed.

"I take it Kells and Quinlan sent you?" he rumbled. Henry gave him a weird look. 

"...Affirmative, sir. You're in charge here, then?"

"I am. And you're here about the missing supplies." Gavil sighed. "Access is strictly limited to the Logistics detail. We track every crate, bullet, and bolt that comes through that front door." The Sergeant folded his arms. "The thought that anyone would question our loyalty makes me sick."

"Understandable, Sergeant, but Kells's orders are Kells's orders." Gavil sneered. 

"If you've got questions, ask. Otherwise, try to stay out of the way." 

"Watch your tone with my sponsee,  _ Sergeant _ ." Gavil's face just about retreated into his nasal cavity in a grimace at the sound of Danse's scold, and he gave him a whole-hearted salute when he came into view from the outside. Henry fought the urge to smirk. 

"My apologies, sir." Danse stopped at the threshold of the depot, just in front of his sponsee, and he held up the papers Quinlan gave to him.

"Now, your report claims it's our rations that have been disappearing." Gavil dipped his head in a nod. 

"Yes, sir. We're down by over twenty crates, if you believe the Scribes. It doesn't make any sense to me, though. I could understand stealing away weapons, or tech, but our thief seems to be going through all this trouble for a lifetime supply of Cram." Henry frowned. 

"So, Cram still exists…" He shuddered. He didn't even want to know what went in it to make it last through a nuclear winter. "Well, where do you think we start, then, sir?" Gavil shook his head. 

"You really shouldn't. I've already spoken with my department. They've seen nothing. Teagan's Scribes just fouled up the books again." He shrank a little under Danse's sharp eyes. "If you insist on interrogating someone, I can spare Lucia and Clarke." 

"Lucia and Clarke?" Henry echoed. 

"Knight Lucia and Initiate Clarke. They were just posted here a few weeks ago. Lucia's the only female in Logistics, and Initiate Clarke looks like a milk-sucker. Can't miss either of them. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to return to my post..." Gavil then strode back off to his post by the door, red-faced and fleet of foot. 

"If he doesn't learn to watch his attitude, I'll have to have him written up again…" Danse grumbled. 

"Gotta wonder how big of a stick he's got up where the sun don't shine," Henry agreed, then shrugged. "You don't think  _ he's _ a suspect, do you? You saw how he was acting." Danse shook his head. 

"No. Knight-Sergeant Gavil has been in charge of Logistics for a decade now, without issue, and takes his job  _ very _ seriously, in spite of his lip. He can be ruled out, for now." Henry gave him a thumbs-up.

Clarke wasn't too hard to identify, given he was as baby-faced as Gavil described, with the eyes of a deer in headlights when he caught sight of two superior officers coming his way. 

"You're Initiate Clarke?" Henry called. Clarke nodded and set down his clipboard. 

"Yes, sir. If you're here about the thefts, I already told Sergeant Gavil everything I know."

Danse frowned a little. "Initiate." Clarke clenched his fists.

"I…" He caught himself. "Apologies, Paladin." 

"Look, kid, we just want you to be honest," Henry cut in. Clarke blinked.

"Okay… What do you want to know?"

"How secure do you think this area is, Initiate?" Danse asked. 

"Paladin, the stowage depot is in the middle of a military base under constant guard. I can assure you it's the Brotherhood's most secure location. Nothing goes in or out without us knowing about it." Henry nodded. 

"Okay. What can you tell us about the missing supplies?"

"I don't know much, sir. I've heard the rumors, same as everyone else, but that's all." Danse raised a brow. 

"Rumors?"

"Some of the Knights are saying Raiders with stealth boys hit the terminal every night, that supplies are going faster than they can bring them in." He huffed a little scoff. "It's a bunch of garbage, sir. I used to work the evening shift, and believe me when I say the only thing you risk dying from is boredom." 

"Who else is on your team currently?"

"Well, there's the Sergeant, Lucia, some of the Scribes, and a Knight or two not fit for field duty right now."

_ "Lucia _ ?" Henry murmured. Clarke jolted. 

"Excuse me,  _ Knight  _ Lucia. We were posted here a few weeks ago." Henry and Danse looked at each other. 

"Alright…" Henry started. "If that's all you've got for us on the case, we're gonna go talk to your friend. Come to us if you hear anything else, alright?" Clarke saluted. 

"Yes, Knight, Paladin." The two returned the salute and backed away to find the Knight. Lucia was pointed out to them as she was touching up a pile of wire on one of the shelves in the depot.

"Are you Knight Lucia?" Henry asked. She didn't look up from what she was doing when she answered. 

"Yep! What can I do for you?" Danse cleared his throat.

"We are looking into the missing supplies. We just need some information from you, Knight." Lucia looked up at him, her expression hardened, and she saluted. 

"Of course, Paladin. I'm not sure if I can be of much help, but… what do you need to know?" 

"How, exactly, do you think the security is here?"

"Well, sir, it's tight. At least two Knights and a Scribe on duty at all times, and we've got the entire base right here. Not much to worry about that can get in."

"Is there any way to get past all that security?" Henry added. Lucia hummed. 

"You'd have to be in Logistics. We're the only ones authorized to bring supplies in or out, but there's no way you'd get a full crate of supplies off base. With all the patrols, someone would notice."

Danse flexed his fingers.

"Then that confirms that the culprit is in Logistics." Lucia paled a little. 

"But, sir, why would anyone here steal anything in the first place? The Brotherhood provides everything we need, and no one here could have a connection to the Commonwealth." Henry gripped his chin.

"So, is it just food that's stolen, like we heard?"

"That's what I've heard, mostly food, and… vacuum tubes? ...No, wait, sorry, they just lost those." Henry and Danse exchanged glances. 

"Vacuum tubes?" Danse echoed. "Just how often are supplies lost down here?"

"Someone had just filed them in the wrong place, sir. Clarke found them the next day. Little mistakes happen, sir, but it never amounts to much," Lucia replied. "The Sergeant may complain, but Proctor Teagan and his Scribes are very thorough. One or two crates might be missed, but not this many." She sighed. "I'm sorry. I don't know anything else." 

Henry nodded. 

"Okay. We'll keep asking around. Come to us or Captain Kells if you hear anything." Lucia smiled and saluted. 

"Absolutely."

The rest of the search got them nowhere. There were three other Knights and a handful of Scribes on the Logistics team, as well as some guards that lingered around the entrances, but they got no answers. Henry could barely get any words out of Danse on the way back up to the Prydwen, for the Paladin was deep in thought. 

"What're we gonna tell Kells, sir?" Danse huffed. 

"I'll give him my report personally, and let him know we'll be looking more tomorrow." 

"Understood, sir."

Henry was left alone after Danse went to go speak with Kells, so he headed back up to the barracks, but the unsettlement and confusion didn't leave him. As he passed by the bunks, he dragged his feet and kept his head down, thinking. A thought then came to him, and he gazed over at the beds lining the wall. Each bed had a footlocker, and each locker had a name pasted onto the front to show the owner. He looked up the aisle, then down the other way. The barracks were empty, given it was the middle of the day, and everyone was occupied with patrols. 

He shoved his hands into his pockets, and went striding up and down the floor until he found the locker that bore Lucia's name. It was locked, but a few minutes of sifting around under the mattress found him the key. He opened it up, and only found a few things; a photograph of Lucia and Clarke taken two years ago, a bottle of beer, and a holotape labelled "Journal" with "Stay Out, Clarke!" written just below.

He snuffed a snicker, and he popped the tape into his Pip-Boy. 

Some script popped up on the screen, and he wiped off some of the fallout dust so he could read. 

There were a handful of entries, and he scanned through them to find little of interest.  _ That _ was until he hit one of the most recent entries, labelled "Year 2, Day 34."

_ "This is getting out of hand. Clarke has been late to his shifts three times this week. Each time, I've found him and made sure he didn't "forget" again, but I can't keep covering for him like this. I think Sergeant Gavil is starting to suspect something is wrong. When I got back from watch last night, my footlocker was a mess. I think Clarke has been going through my things. What's the matter with him. Why won't he talk to me?"  _

Henry shut the locker and put the key back under the mattress exactly how he found it before he jogged out of the barracks. Danse had just gotten finished delivering his report to Kells when Henry found him climbing up into the hull. Henry lingered by the mess hall's entrance, and he waved for Danse to come over.

"What is it, Knight?" he queried. Henry started fumbling with the clasp on his Pip-Boy to take it off. 

"I think we have a break in the case." Danse raised a brow and received the personal computer.

"How do you mean?" His eyes then narrowed as he scanned over the entry. " _ And where did you get this tape?" _

"That's not important, sir." Danse shot him a sharp look. "Alright, alright, I went rooting through her stuff. I think that's obvious." The Paladin scowled.

"That's against protocol!" he hissed. 

"So is harboring fugitives!" Henry reposted. Danse's eyes widened. 

"What-"

"Just read it, and you'll get it." Danse shook his head with a disapproving grumble and squinted to see as he looked over the worrying entry in Lucia's diary. His frown deepened, and he handed the computer back to Henry to put on.

"You think Initiate Clarke is doing this?" 

"You saw how he was acting, and you saw that entry. We can't ignore this." A brief glimpse of indiscernible emotion flashed on Danse's face before he nodded. 

"You're right." He rubbed his face. "Go put that tape back where you found it, and I'll get a copy of the Logistics' teams shift schedule."

"Alright. I'll wait for you in the barracks, sir." Before Henry could fully turn on his heel, Danse grabbed his arm. With his T-60's gauntlet, that grip was bruising in strength, and it was obvious that was intentional. 

"Remember what I said about what happens to both of us if you mess up. If you are going to pull something like that again, tell me so I can get you permission first, or I will have to report you." Henry's gut tightened. 

"Understood, sir."

Neither of them took long. Henry pulled the same shenanigan to put the tape back, and Danse was quick to get ahold of the documents they needed. He was just about to open his book o' puns when the Paladin strode in. 

"I had a look at the schedule. Lucia is to report to the Prydwen within the hour." Henry sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bed.

"Okay, so if we time this right, I can question her, then maybe we can figure out what to do next?"

_ "You  _ question her?" Danse murmured with a puzzled look. 

"From what I've observed, your word is law around here, and she's just a baby compared to us," Henry said. "Sorry to put it bluntly, sir, but you're gonna scare the crap out of her if you question her. I'll take care of it, don't worry." Danse grimaced, but realization was quick to cross his face. 

"You… You do have a point. Go out and talk to her when she comes into the barracks, then come find me when you're done." Henry nodded. 

"Understood, sir."

Henry ducked out of the room when Lucia's shift ended, and waited by the barracks's entrance for her. It wasn't a long wait before Henry saw her clamber up into the hull from the flight deck.

"Lucia," Henry called. Lucia jolted to attention, and she smiled as she padded up the stairs towards the bunks.

"Hi, Henry. How's the investigation going?" Henry looked up the line of beds, and he motioned for her to come closer, which she did. "What's wrong?"

"Have you been covering for Clarke?" he whispered. She frowned. 

"W-what? What are you talking about?" Henry puffed. 

"I found your journal, Lucia. I want to know what's going on." She stepped back. 

" _ You what?  _ I… I…" She paused, and she took a deep breath with a shake of her head. "...all right. Look, Clarke has been my closest friend since we joined the Brotherhood, but he hasn't been acting right since the battle." Henry cocked his head. 

" _ Battle _ ?"

"For the airport," Lucia clarified. "It was our first real combat mission." She then smiled a little. "It was something to see: the Prydwen coming in under full vertibird escort, guns blazing. Clarke and I were one of the first to hit the ground. Dozens of ferals. We opened fire and cut them all down, then hunted down the ones that tried to run. Conquering the airport was everything I had hoped for, but Clarke… well, he hasn't been himself since."

"How so?"   
  


"Since the battle, I've noticed him slipping off once or twice during his shift, in the back of the storage depot by the shoreline. I never thought much of it, but… If you think he's doing this, his shift ends in forty-five, I think. Now might be your chance." Henry gave her a pat on the shoulder. 

"Alright, Lucia. You're off the hook." She gave him an uneasy smile. "And, um, sorry for going through your things. Situation called for it. If it makes you feel any better, I didn't look through a whole lot of it. Everything should be back the way I found it." She gave him a nod, her lips drawn tight, and she quickly trode past him to get to the barracks. 

He let out a hard breath, and he straighted himself up.

Now to deal with Clarke.

Following a hasty descent down to the airport, the two rushed to the storage depot, near the unoccupied section of the terminal that Lucia described, just behind a handful of crates. Half of an undisturbed hour passed. When Henry spotted this on his Pip-Boy's watch, he nudged his sponsor. 

"Clarke's shift should be ending in a few minutes," he whispered. "Keep your eyes open for him." Danse hummed and nodded. 

More silence. 

Then came the scuffing of boots along the floor. The two sucked back behind the crates as far as possible. Clarke came trudging by. When he passed, Henry poked his head out to follow him with his eyes. The Initiate crept over some of the rubble leading to the back of the terminal to a rusted door, and when he hit it, he pulled a little card out of his bodysuit that he swept through a scanner on the doorframe. 

The door cracked open, and Clarke slipped out. The door hitched, and it didn't close all the way, but he didn't turn back to correct it, and went out of eyeshot. Henry stepped out into the hall. 

"Well, I think we have our culprit." Danse went striding out from cover and led the way towards the door. 

"We have no time to waste, then. Come on." Henry nodded sharply and fell closely behind him as he made his way to the door. The door opened to a roofless room, collapsed by the ruins of a crashed airliner, which they worked through after the fresh bootprints in the mud. They trailed along between the shoreline and the wall until they came to another collapsed door, with a panel nearly too low and narrow for Danse to fit through with his armor, but he didn't have to ditch it. 

"Why would he come  _ here _ with stolen food?" he uttered. "The Scribes said this section of the terminal is collapsed with no other exit."

The entryway, while tight and nearly impossible to navigate, eventually opened up into what appeared to be a parking garage that led underground. With the wide-open area then came the unforgettable smell of radiation burned flesh. Henry sneezed a little and groaned at the stench. 

"I hope he hasn't been having lunch with Ghouls…" Danse took a quick scan about the garage.

"Proctor Ingram mentioned the Ghouls that infested the airport were all killed. It's unlikely there are many down here, if any at all." Henry shrugged and held  _ Righteous Authority  _ close regardless.

A few quick minutes of searching brought them to an active elevator door, but it was locked tight with one of those card scanners. Henry took a look at it, figuring he might have been able to open it, but he had no tools. He swore and gave Danse a sideways glance. "You wouldn't happen to have a card, would you?" The Paladin snorted a little. An idea then came to Henry, and he studied the door briefly; it had two panels that slid in opposite directions to open, leaving a very small gap between them. "We might not have a card, but I think we might have a key..."

Danse sent Henry a strange look. 

"Think you can open this?" Danse murmured an acknowledgement, and he plodded over to grip the doors. His brow wrinkled and his face reddened as he strained to wrench the doors open. The doors groaned and squealed, and they gradually slid into their sheathes until they stopped in their frames. He released them when he was sure they weren't going to move, and he motioned for Henry to go through. 

"The shaft doesn't drop far. I will lower you to the hatch and follow you down." Henry nodded and Danse grabbed him by his arm to lower him in. Henry scaled down the wall until he hit the roof of the elevator some six feet below. 

"Alright, you're green to come down." There was a pause, and Henry heard the signature hiss of Power Armor opening up. Excitement briefly sparked in his chest, and he was soon met by the Paladin, who had vaulted down along with his sponsee. Henry knelt down, and he yanked on the door. It didn't budge, so he grabbed it with both hands and yanked. 

The hatch creaked a little, but didn't open. He tried once more. His shoulder popped, and he grabbed it with a gasp. Danse glared at him, surprised. 

"Are you alright?" he whispered. Henry gave him a thumbs-up with his good arm. 

"Yeah… You don't mind getting that for me, would you?" Danse nodded, and he grabbed the hatch's handle. He pulled it open like it was nothing, and he went down first, with Henry close behind. The elevator door was wide open to reveal a doe-eyed Initiate Clarke just beyond, who was pinned up against a glass door. There were a few boxes of instant pasta at his feet that he'd obviously dropped in his surprise. 

"Paladin Danse…"

Danse stepped out of the elevator, Henry at his back. 

"Initiate, what are you doing down here? This area has been deemed too dangerous for exploration." Clarke swallowed thickly, wordless. His lip trembled a little, like a child. "Initiate, when a commanding officer asks you a question, you answer it." 

"I…" Clarke took a deep breath, and his shoulders slumped as he simply stepped away from the glass door. His two superiors came over to look, and they both went rigid, for just beyond that door was a horde of Ghouls scuffling about. Scattered all over that little room in front of them were dozens of shredded boxes of various rations. Danse clenched his fists so tightly, Henry heard his knuckles crack. Henry put a hand to his shoulder. 

"Why don't you let me talk to him, sir?" he muttered. "I have a feeling you're not gonna get much out of him, as scared as he is." Danse stared him down, his dark eyes hard and cold. "You watch the Ghouls, make sure they don't get any ideas."

"Knight, you are not in the position to give me orders…"

"Sir, we're supposed to be working together. I'm calling the shot on this one," Henry snapped back under his breath. Danse's brows hit his hairline. "Just let me talk to him. I don't want this to get violent." Danse stared at him for a while longer, but he then sighed, defeated. 

"Fine, but know I will intervene if you get nowhere with him." Henry puffed, and he turned on his heel to approach the trembling Initiate who stood just behind him. 

"I just wanna talk." Clarke rubbed his hands together. Glistening sweat on the boy's forehead reflected the fluorescent lights above them. Henry lead him over by the elevator, and he leaned against the wall. "Clarke, what's going on here?" Clarke rubbed his arm, and he kept his gaze locked onto the floor. 

"I guess someone was bound catch me eventually…" he mumbled, and he pointed to the door where a snarling Ghoul had pressed itself up against the glass. "I've been bringing the rations down here at night to feed the Ghouls, and it's been working. No one even questioned me bringing the food out because I'm in logistics…" Henry scowled. 

"What do you mean 'It's been working'? Why are you even doing this? Just coming down here is enough to get you in trouble!" Clarke grimaced. 

"I know, and it's a long story…" 

"The story doesn't matter. We can't have pack of feral Ghouls right under our feet! It's putting everyone at risk!" Clarke held his hands up. 

"I get it, sir, but please, hear me out first." Henry squinted. "I… I had a friend who was a Ghoul, once, back in the Capital Wasteland. Just as human as you and me, but the Brotherhood… the Brotherhood says the Ghouls are just animals, that they all need to die." His breath hitched. "Would you kill him, too, just because of who he is?"

"Was he feral, or…?"

"What's it matter? Weren't they  _ all  _ human once?" Clarke snapped. "I joined up two years ago, and in all that time, I never doubted our beliefs. Not  _ once _ . But… when we took the airport a few weeks ago, the Ghouls…" He shivered. "They just kept coming, and I killed… I don't even know how many. Even when they started running away, we kept going, and I killed every one I could shoot." Henry didn't let his composure slip. 

"What did you expect? You know what the Brotherhood stands for."

"But I didn't! Not really. Not until the battle."

"They're Ghouls, Clarke! They aren't people anymore, their brains have been turned to mush by radiation!"

"But they  _ were _ people! We were killing  _ innocent people! _ " Henry scoffed. 

"That's just war, kid. Innocent people, like it or not, get caught in the crossfire. You can't think about the individuals. You're a soldier, you should know this!"

"But we could have stopped. We could've just chased them off. We didn't have to butcher them like that, and throw them into the sea." He paused, and he looked at the door. "Anyway… after the battle, I needed some time alone to think, and I found this place… And the Ghouls. I mean, what could I do? Report it, and they'd be killed. Ignore them, and they'd attack the base. I thought, if I brought them food, maybe they'd just…  _ stay down here.  _ There wouldn't have to be any more killing." He finally looked Henry in the eyes. "Do you… think I did the right thing?" Henry sighed. 

"Do you?" Clarke went to retort, but he fell wordless, and he slumped again, his face reddening. 

"I… I don't know. I just wanted to help them. I didn't mean to put anyone in danger." He leaned against the wall. Henry gripped his shoulders. 

"Look, I was in the army before I joined up with the Brotherhood, so I want you to take my advice; turn yourself in." Clarke tearfully glared at him. 

"What? But… Kells is…"

"Fair. Kells is fair. I promise, if you just own up to it, he'll go easier on you, no matter what happens." Clarke looked to the floor again, and he shuddered in a sob. Henry smacked his shoulder. "You stop crying, get up to Kells, and tell him what happened. Now." Clarke shot upright and swept his tears from his face. 

"Y-Yessir!" Henry gave him a firm push into the elevator, and he motioned for a wordless Danse to join them.

Henry didn't get to see Kells's reaction to Clarke's confession upon escort, as Clarke was quickly taken to another room for interrogation, leaving him to wonder. Following the delivery of Danse's report to Quinlan, the two went their separate ways. Danse went to Ingram's depot to work on his armor, and Henry retreated to his quarters to relax until dinnertime, what with his assignment completed already; it was already past two o'clock in the afternoon. As soon as he closed the door at his back, his composure fell, and the bones in his legs turned to jelly. 

"Dammit, I was just joking when I said I hoped that he wasn't feeding those things.." He sighed, and he trudged over to his duffle bag to store away his gun. 

He recalled having his slip-ups in the army as a fresh-faced eighteen-year-old, still having yet to break loose of his teenage impulses, but he couldn't imagine stealing from the closest thing to military America had anymore. He huffed. He just hoped that Kells valued honesty as much as he assumed. He was just about to climb back up into his bunk with his book o' puns when the door creaked open. 

He perked up from the bunk step to see Danse stride in and close the door at his back. The Paladin drifted over to the table by the door, and Henry flopped down onto his bunk and flicked his book open to start reading, but he didn't get far, for Danse cleared his throat, and he turned on his heel to look at his sponsee. 

"Henry." Henry jolted at that, not having even been addressed by his own name since his enlistment. 

"Sir?"

"You may lose the formality. I just... want to clear the air, while I have the chance." Henry tilted his head, and he swung his legs over the bunk to hop down. It was then he noticed the shift in Danse's expression; those dark eyes weren't as cold as stone like usual, but more so like those of a puppy, and the corners of his mouth were drawn into a frown. He bit his lip, concerned.

"Is something wrong?" Danse jolted. 

"No, no, it's not that," he responded hastily. He then took a deep breath. "It's… I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot when we first met, and I feel like I owe you an apology." Henry startled a little at that. "Expecting you to embrace the standards of the Brotherhood without having a history with us was  _ unfair _ , given your situation. I must say, with how you handled Clarke's situation, it's safe to assume that you aren't one with the chems like I feared, however I wasn't expecting such a drastic turnaround." It took a moment to reply to that, and Henry did so with a grin. 

"Well, paint me red and call me a communist! You mean to tell me there's a human being under all that armor?" Danse let out a hard breath.

"I suppose I do need a reminder on occasion, don't I?" He looked up in thought for a moment. "When I was still an Initiate, I was sponsored by Paladin Krieg, the toughest squad leader I ever served with. From the moment I was assigned to his squad, I was singled out… like he was pushing me harder than the rest of the team. I fought by his side for years, but he never explained to me as to why I was treated that way." Henry bit his cheek.

"Did you ever ask him why?" Danse shook his head. 

"I'd considered it, but unfortunately, I never had the chance. Following my promotion to Paladin, and I had moved on to my own squad, I received word that Krieg was killed at Adams Air Force Base." He paused. "The news was like being kicked in the stomach. I've lost some of my comrades before, but his death… Well, it really got under my skin." He paused again; not to prevent an emotional outburst, but to think. "It's taken me a long time to realize it, but the reason Krieg was so tough on me is the same reason I'm so tough on you; it's because I believe in you, and I don't want to see your potential go to waste." Henry's fingers flexed, unsure, but he held his head high and regained his smile. 

"Well, I have my own vices to own up for, what with the angry-juice, and… you know,  _ risking your job and our lives…"  _ He coughed a little. "Point is, no hard feelings. I get it." Danse huffed. 

"Outstanding." His expression suddenly hardened again, and he folded his arms. "I… trust you'll keep this in confidence, of course. Some of the information I shared with you was of a personal nature and, well, I'd prefer to keep it that way. Understood?" Henry gave him a thumbs-up. 

"Sure thing, Danny." Danse sent him a puzzled look. 

"It's… Danse." Henry snorted, and he meandered back over to the bed to grab his smoked out of his duffle bag. 

”I know, but I doubt you can really groove all that well."

"Is that really appropriate,  _ Knight?"  _ Henry found a pack in the side pocket, grabbed one out of it as well as the matchbook, and lit up.

__ "What would you rather, then,  _ Paladin Pretty-Boy?"  _ Danse went a little red.

"Do not continue calling me  _ either _ of those things." Henry snickered past the cigarette's filter that rested in his teeth, and he hauled himself back up onto his bunk. 

"Oh, come on! If we're gonna be partners from here on out, we might as well get comfortable with each other." Danse rolled his eyes and turned to open the door. 

"You're ridiculous." Henry plucked his cigarette out of his mouth for a moment to stick out his tongue.

" _ You're  _ hard-boiled." The Paladin went to shoot back with something, but he closed his mouth, shook his head, and strode back out of their shared room, muttering to himself. Henry laughed. "I'm calling this a victory, sir!" The door clicked shut. 

Henry sniffed and took a drag.

"Buddy, if you're  _ that _ easily flustered, I am going to make you miserable."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Danse seems like a little too proud, BUT HEAR ME OUT-
> 
> He’s still expecting Henry to do something stupid because his chem history combined with his mistakes in Fort Strong because he’s rusty in military stuff. Also, Henry’s character is changing because he’s finally got his shit together. I don’t like pointing indirect stuff like this, but I feel bad not pointing it out haha
> 
> Henry’s actually pretty level-headed and happy-go-lucky in his sobriety, so we’re definitely showing more of that now hehe


	11. Atomic Cocktail

After the Clarke Incident, Henry had to carry his breakfast tray around with one hand because lifting it hurt his shoulder too badly. He huffed a little to himself when he sat down and tucked into the questionably-scented hospital eggs. That bullet scar was still prominent, as shown in the mirror when he went to shave after roll. He rubbed at it between bites, wincing when the muscles spasmed. 

"Henry?" He startled, and he looked up to see it was Haylen who'd called him, to which he beamed as she came pacing across the mess hall's floor to him. 

"Haylen! I thought you were posted at the station?" She plopped herself down across from him at the table at which he was seated. 

"I'm just reporting in, figured I'd grab some breakfast before I head back. How the heck are you?" He shrugged. 

"Well, I'm a Knight, now, and I have a sponsor." She grinned and clapped a little before she swallowed her current mouthful. 

"That's amazing, and so soon! Who's your sponsor?" Henry huffed, and though he still smiled, it faded a little. 

"The Big Tin Can Man, actually." She raised a brow. 

"Bet that's loads of fun." Henry snorted. 

"You're damn right." Haylen giggled. 

"Hey, consider yourself lucky Rhys isn't your sponsor. At least the Paladin can take a joke." Henry laughed. 

"He's a good guy, and I think we're getting somewhere, but I'll be damned if he isn't the saltiest fucker I've ever met."

"Having trouble getting along?"

"Well, we made some progress yesterday; I got a slightly less irritated look out of him when I made a bad pun." Haylen smirked past her current mouthful.

"Hey, take my advice, if you want to get on his good side-" she paused to swallow "-Do things his way." Henry sent her a look. "I'm serious. Danse sponsored Rhys, and the first thing Rhys told me when we were deployed to the Commonwealth was to just give him the reins and let him do what he needs to do. Must be a male thing that I don't get, but it worked. We got along just fine." 

"Sound advice, I guess." He shrugged. "Hey, how's Dogmeat?" Haylen swallowed another spoonful of those awful eggs.

"He's the best dog ever, and he's doing great. Everyone at the station loves him." Henry gave her a thumbs-up. 

"Fantastic. I really owe you big for taking him so last minute." She waved him off. 

"Nah, it's my pleasure." She then leaned forward. "To be honest, since it's getting so cold, it's nice to have him in the bed with me." They both snickered. "Anything else new?" 

"Well, I'm heading out on my first official field mission into the Glowing Sea, so that should be fun. You know what they say, out of the frying pan, into the fire!" She cringed. 

"The original point zero, loaded with radiation? What for?"

"There's an exiled Institute scientist hiding out there, and we think he might be our way in," he replied. "They sent out a recon team a few days ago to track him down and talk to him. We're on standby right now, in case they need us on the ground." 

"Alright, well, be careful. Back home in the Capital Wasteland, I heard we lost a whole squad to a pack of Deathclaws at one of those blast sites." Henry paused mid-bite. 

"The hell's a  _ Deathclaw _ ?" Haylen stared at him as if he'd just grown another head. 

" _ You've never heard of a Deathclaw? _ " she gaped. 

"Nope."

"Well, that nickname isn't honorary, if you know what I mean. If you see something that looks anything like a dinosaur, just run." Henry gave her another thumbs-up. They chatted for a few more minutes before Haylen finished, but before she left, she rounded the table and clapped Henry's sore shoulder. He hid his wince the best he could. 

"Now, remember what I said; drop everything and run when you see a Deathclaw, and do things the Paladin's way. I guarantee your life will get easier real quick." Henry grinned at her. 

"Thanks, Haylen. Give Fluffy-Butt a pet for me, would you? Tell him I miss him?" Haylen gave him a thumbs-up, and she sauntered over to the dish-pile to clear her tray. 

He dropped his head down onto the table when she departed from the mess hall, ignoring the smell of the food that would otherwise make him lose his appetite. That apology Danse gave him was certainly a shock after everything he'd been through in the past month, and was only now sinking in. He felt a little guilty about the attitude to begin with, following the Addictol gesture, but now that they had actually talked things out, now that they had "cleared the air"… He knew he should have felt good that they were  _ finally _ getting somewhere, but he didn't. He just hoped that the trek to the Sea wouldn't be  _ too  _ awkward.

After he dropped his tray off, he sauntered back towards the barracks, figuring he'd look through his book o' puns again. After all, given Danse was so easily flustered, what better way to entertain himself than to harass his sponsor by telling horrible jokes that he likely wouldn't get?  _ That  _ was until the intercom squeaked, and Elder Maxson's voice bellowed in the feed;

_ "Knight Frederickson, report to me on the command deck. Repeat, Knight Frederickson, report to the command deck."  _

Henry groaned to himself a little, his gut twisting in anxiety, and he pivoted right back around on his heel to go to the command deck. Maxson was idling by the window that gazed down at the airport with an unarmored Danse at his side.

"You called for me, Elder?" Henry called. Maxson's head perked up a little bit, and the two officers turned to face him. 

"The recon team returned from the Glowing Sea fifteen minutes ago," the Elder replied. "They could not find Brian Virgil due to the unclear atmosphere at the blast sight, but they have found a potential starting point for your search." 

"Where are we headed, sir?" The Elder then scowled.

"The Crater of Atom. The Lancers say this is the hub of Atom's worship in the Commonwealth, and given the Children of Atom are the only ones insane enough to even consider settling there, you two will have to work with them to find our target." Henry had no idea who the "Children of Atom" were, but he wasn't about ask. "Proctor Quinlan's Scribes are setting up your vertibird as we speak, so you both need to see Knight-Captain Cade for your anti-radiation drugs. When you arrive at the Crater, you both have my permission to do whatever it takes to find Brian Virgil and get him to help us. Understood?"

His two soldiers saluted him with a unanimous, "Understood, Elder." Maxson saluted back, his fist clenched tightly over his chest. 

"I wish you both a safe mission, then. Dismissed."

"So…" Henry started as he followed Danse up to the hull. "Who are the Children of Atom, exactly?" Danse waited until Henry had himself situated at the top of the ladder. 

"The Church of the Children of Atom is a cult that worships the atomic bomb," he murmured. Henry cringed. 

"You have  _ got  _ to be kidding _."  _

"I wish I were, and I don't look forward to dealing with them. As riddled as they are with radiation, they're no better than the Ghouls." The two paced up the hall for Cade's trauma bay. 

"Have you ever dealt with them before, sir?"

"Only to exterminate them." Henry scoffed.

"What happened to freedom of religion?"

Danse went to say something rash, judging by his frown, but he caught himself. "I keep forgetting you're new to the Wasteland... Superficially, they are a peaceful organization, but I've seen what they've done when angered. A major settlement in the Capital Wasteland was lost to their zealotry."

"Yeesh."

Henry didn't at all look forward to having a catheter put in his arm, for he was squeamish about needles. Not about to embarrass himself again in front of a superior officer, though, he kept a straight face and made a note to snatch a few glucose tablets from Cade before they left. 

"I'm sure you two know the drill already with the anti-radiation drugs, but I still have to go over the procedure due of protocol," the doctor groaned, and he rummaged around behind his desk for a few bottles labelled  _ Rad-X _ . "I already purged your blood with  _ RadAway _ , so all you two need to do is take one pill orally every two hours to keep your resistance up to par, starting roughly fifteen minutes before you enter the irradiated zone." He then eyed Henry's Pip-Boy. "Knight, is there a watch on that Pip-Boy there?" Henry lifted his head up from the chair to take a bleary glance at the screen before he gave Cade a nod. 

"Yessir."

"Good. You two are going to be out there for a few days, so sleep in two-hour shifts each and take your medicine at each shift change, or that radiation is going to kill you from the inside out.  _ Even in your Power Armor. _ Understood?" They both gave him a "yes, sir," so he picked up the three bottles from the counter and brought them over to the exam chairs the soldiers sat in. "There's four days worth of doses in here. Should be more than enough to get you in and out of there." He handed Danse the bottles, then strode back over to the counter for bandages. "If you begin having stomach pains or headaches, they're only side affects of the  _ Rad-Away _ , so don't work yourself up over them. The effects will wear off in a few hours." After Cade removed the needle from the crook of Danse's arm and patched the puncture, he stood up and dipped his head in a nod.

"Thank you, Captain." He went to walk out of the office, then glanced back at Henry. "Knight." Henry perked up a little. "Are you coming?" He took a deep breath before he croaked out his reply. 

"I might be a minute, sir." Danse's lip curled up the slightest bit; not in a snarl, but an amused smirk. He was quick to hide it, though.

"I'll be in our quarters, preparing to leave. Don't take too long." Henry nodded, and leaned his head against the back of the chair. Cade snickered. 

"Have you ever taken  _ Rad-Away _ before, Knight?" 

"No, sir. Never had to." The doctor nodded, then had a slightly distressed look cross his features.

"That's right, you're a Vault-Dweller." Henry hummed. "Do you want something for the nausea, then? Paladin Danse didn't seem too keen on waiting for you, and it's a long flight."

"If you don't mind." 

Cade slipped him an antihistamine to help with the vertibird ride to the other side of the state. Now his shoulder was sore, he was drowsy, and he had no idea how he was going to be able to fight or negotiate when he couldn't even see straight. He stumbled back to the barracks to pack his things, tripping on his way up. When he entered his shared room, Danse was crouched by his locker. In his hand was a dingy picture frame that he quickly set into the bottom of the locker, out of sight, before he closed it up. Henry didn't even bother to wonder about it. 

"Do you have an extra set of fusion cores for your armor?" Danse inquired, not even looking up. 

"Yessir, Proctor Ingram hooked me up when I enlisted. Why, do you need one?" He shook his head. 

" _ I _ have plenty for myself. I was just making sure you had your own." Henry snorted and grinned stupidly.

"Oh, golly, and just when I got to thinking you hated me!" Danse squinted at him. 

"No, I just-" He huffed. "We're leaving in twenty minutes. Make sure you have everything before we shove off." Henry snorted. 

"I aim to annoy, sir." With that said, Danse hauled his bag off the floor and heaved it up onto his shoulder before he made his way to the door. Henry yawned, and he started sifting through his bag. He still had those cans of dog food left from Concord, so he threw those into his ammo bag, along with a few dozen fusion cells, his two extra cores, and his book o' puns, which he stored away with a naughty smile. With that bag slung over his good shoulder, he ran down to grab his armor, then went tromping towards the ladder to the flight deck.

And, of course, they were being deployed by the drunk Lancer. Once Henry was buckled up in the back of the vertibird, swaying in his seat from the  _ Rad-Away _ , the pilot started uttering into her radio, waited a moment, then slammed it into the control console to hitch it. 

"Alrighty, sirs, we're green!" she whooped. The vertibird started to unhitch from the Prydwen's hull. Henry wanted to clutch at his stomach, but he couldn't through his armor, so he just doubled over and prayed that the trip would be smooth. So much for the antihistamine. When the vertibird took to the air on its own, he yanked his helmet off in case he were to puke on the ride. He heard Danse huff. 

"Are you feeling well, Knight?" Henry just gave him a thumbs up. The craft drifted over the shoreline, into downtown Boston. "Lancer." The pilot perked up. 

"Yessir?" 

"About how long are we going to be in the air?" The pilot thought for a moment. 

"Eh… Pro'ly… an hour and half? Hard to say, sir. The recon's report said the weather was horrible by the blast site, I'm sorry to say." She cleared her throat. "Now, I won't be able to stick around that crater for long, sir, 'cause Captain Kells won't authorize me to wait there. I'm gonna be droppin' youse off before I head back to base. I'm afraid youse are gonna have to walk back out of the zone and send out a distress pulser so the patrol set up on the border can bring youse home." Henry groaned and tensed in his suit.

"I wish Kells and Maxson woulda told us all that!" 

The ride was dreadful. Henry, shortly after spilling his breakfast out of the side of the vertibird as they crossed the Charles River, dry-heaved the whole way, with the pilot swearing at him under her breath for plastering his vomit along the paneling of her vertibird. By the time his guts were empty and his eyes were blood shot, they had completely bypassed Boston and Cambridge, and were now heading towards Franklin, where he could make out the faint grey-green glow of the sea a few miles to the southwest. The pilot grabbed a mask from the compartment above her head and fit it over her face.

"Alrighty, sirs, we'll be hittin' the Crater in ten minutes. Get ready."

"Knight, take your Rad-X and put your helmet on, now," Danse barked. Henry nodded, still pale and shuddering, and he forced himself to down a dose of Rad-X before he pulled his helm over his head. As they passed over the southernmost end of Mass Pike Interchange, Henry watched the trees some one hundred feet below gradually flatten before they eventually gave way to rifted land and glowing water. He swallowed thickly against the bitter tang of his medicine, and he took a look at his Pip-Boy. 

It was about one in the afternoon now, yet as they drew closer to the Crater, it grew as dark as night from the cloud cover. On top of that, the needle of his Geiger was tapping into red. The wind started picking up.

"Damn." Danse gazed over at him with a questioning hum. "Pancake's* going crazy, and we haven't even hit ground zero yet…" The Lancer pointed ahead.

"Well, we're about to, sir. I'm droppin' youse off about half a mile from the Crater in just a few." Henry choked down a retch. 

"Sounds good, Lancer."

It wasn't long after before the Crater came into view, a gaping pit full of glowing water and weird mist. The smell of the whole area was ungodly, already, and they hadn't even landed yet. Henry's throat tightened when he laid eyes on it. He was glad to have that suit of armor around him so Danse couldn't see him shaking. Another gag tugged at his stomach, but he knew it wasn't from the  _ Rad-Away. _

The vertibird skirted over the settlement, wavering in the air as the pilot searched for a place to land. She eventually did; a clearing a few hundred meters from the rim of the Crater. The craft slowly lowered to the ground, and it hit the dirt with a roar _. _

__ "Youse're green, fellas," the Lancer called over the engine. Henry and Danse got up from their seats and hopped out of the sides of the vertibird, and she shifted the gears to lift off. They watched her leave, and once she had cleared the immediate vicinity, they began marching to the northeast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Puns are incoming. Brief bromance too. Bromance is coming soon too, I promise hehe
> 
> I SWEAR DANSE WILL BE LESS DICKISH SOON PLEASE BEAR WITH ME
> 
> *almost forgot, Pancake is slang for a Geiger counter


	12. Winds of Radiation

"I still can't get over the fact those idiots _worship radiation_ ," Henry groused. Danse marched in front of him as they rounded the Crater. " _Be divided in His sight?_ What does that gobbledygook even mean?" 

"It doesn't matter," Danse rumbled. "If the Brotherhood can't get any more use out of those _hooligans_ , they'll likely be terminated." Henry puffed, and he struggled to keep up, for the fact that he was retching combined with that he could scarcely breathe in his helm didn't help him move any faster. They rounded the Crater until they were facing the southwest, then followed along the peaks of the foothills that lined the cliffside to the south. 

"Those crackpots said his cave was in the crags here, right? I couldn't hear much over the winds." 

"Affirmative. Look for the cave here as we move along. I'll keep watch for hostiles on the plains."

"Roger that." 

Henry switched his headlamp on and scanned the crag's wall as they marched to the south. So far, there were no gaps in the rocks that he could see; while he was grateful Ingram had fixed his helmet, the visor wasn't any better to see out of. His grip was tight on _Righteous Authority_ , and he had Kellogg's Pistol, his trophy, holstered on his armor frame. Every sound he picked up over the howling wind had him jolting; a stone dropping from the crag to the ground, dead plants rustling in the rocks. Henry actually squeaked when a little radroach skittered out in front of him. If Danse heard it, he made no comment.

"I can't even imagine how _anything_ could survive out here…" the Paladin mumbled. "... Including this scientist we're looking for."

"Hey, those crackpots back there didn't seem to keen on _RadAway_ , and they weren't _too_ hairless," Henry jested. 

"True, but they've adapted to the radiation throughout the generations. They don't need the anti-radiation drugs like us, and I doubt Virgil is as strange as they are." Henry shrugged, winced when his shoulder spasmed, and turned his attention back to the wall. His brows raised when he spotted a darker patch in the wall some meters ahead, and he strained to see. 

"Hold up a sec." Danse stopped and went down on one knee, his rifle ready. 

"What is it?" Henry coughed. 

"I think I see the cave, just up ahead." Danse righted himself and peered along the wall until he nodded. 

"Likewise." He pointed to it. "Let's keep moving, then." 

They approached the sighted cave, and Danse peered in with his headlamp shining down the shaft. 

"See anything?" Danse switched his headlamp off for a moment before he turned back on.

"There's a light further down. I think we have him."

"Sounds good. After you." Henry followed the Paladin down into the cave. "You don't think he's hostile, do you? You heard what that broad said about this guy; he doesn't take too nicely to visitors."

"Let me do the negotiating. If he turns hostile, don't shoot to kill." 

"Understood."

The tunnel was long, and it eventually opened up into a cavern with a ceiling so low, the soldiers had to bow their heads as to not scrape their helms. It was well-lit, and there was an immobile protectron, as well as a number of potted, glowing ferns that lined the walls. When Henry pressed the finger of his gauntlet into the soil, the grime stuck; freshly watered. 

"Get ready, someone's home." Danse hummed, and with his rifle ready to aim, he drew forward. He then froze. Henry pressed _Righteous Authority's_ stock into the crook of his shoulder and peered past Danse's arm. 

Just a few feet ahead was a Super Mutant in the middle of watering his plants, with the look on his face of a teen caught rifling through his mother's purse. Danse drew his arm back to aim, but Henry shoved his way in front of him just as he fired, making him miss and leaving a scorch mark in the ceiling and the side of Henry's helm feeling hot. The mutant jumped to his feet and began fumbling with the holster on his belt. Henry shoved his way in between them.

They all went still. 

"Mutant!" Danse barked. "Where is Brian Virgil?"

"Danse, I think this guy _is_ Virgil." Henry cut in. "Look at his clothes!" The Mutant, who was dressed in a dingy lab-coat with glasses tied to his face, now had his gun drawn. Of course, a simple pistol fashioned from pipes and plywood was futile against military-issue Power Armor.

"I know you're with the Institute!" the Mutant spat in a surprisingly clean inflection. "Where's Kellogg, then? I'm not stupid; I knew they'd send him after me!" Henry put his gun down and raised his hands.

"We're just here to talk, big guy. Calm down." Virgil pointed his gun at Danse, who still had his own rifle drawn.

"Then what about _him!"_ Henry coughed. 

"Well, uh, y'know, you're just a little…. _greener_ than we expected, scared the crap out of us."

"That explains how he survived out here; Mutants are immune to radiation poisoning." 

Virgil swapped glances between the two of them. "How did you even find me?" Danse gave Henry a nudge.

"Uh, intel from Conrad Kellogg. I'm sure you two are familiar with each other." Virgil puffed up again and hooked his finger around the trigger.

"So, they _did_ send you! You're working with him!" 

"Buddy, Kellogg and I weren't friends by any means." His brow furrowed further. "Here's the trophy, if you don't believe me. That Institute doesn't like me much, either." Virgil looked at it, and his scowl fell. "Now that you know we're not here to kill you, why don't you just put the gun down so we can talk?" The Mutant hesitated, but he sighed, and he holstered his gun. At that, Henry stepped to the side and cleared his throat to mutter an apology to Danse. 

Virgil straightened his glasses. "So, what do you want from me?" Danse took a deep breath to compose himself before he answered.

"The Brotherhood of Steel is working towards infiltrating the Institute. My Knight here informed us you were our best hope for finding a mode of entrance." Virgil wrinkled his nose a little. 

"You _what?_ You're both insane. Never mind how nearly impossible it is for outsiders to set foot in the facility, succeeding would almost certainly end in your immediate death," he grumbled. "What reason could you _possibly_ have for taking that kind of risk?"

"The Brotherhood's reasons are its own," Danse replied. Virgil curled his lip. 

"Assuming that I am even going to consider helping you two hoodlums, I'm _not_ going to be kept in the dark!" Before Danse could argue, Henry butted in.

"Virgil, please, my son is on the line here. The Institute had Kellogg snatch him, and that teleporter is my only hope of getting him back." Virgil took a moment, then closed his eyes and nodded once. 

"The Institute _has_ taken people from the Commonwealth in the past… If your son is one of them, I can understand why you, personally, would want to get in there." He perched his hands on his hips. "Alright, I can help, but I'm going to need something in return from you two. Can't have something for nothing." Henry and Danse exchanged glances. 

Danse sighed. "Alright." Virgil hummed. 

"Let's talk details, then." Virgil turned on his heel and motioned for the two soldiers to follow him further into the cave. He stopped them a ways in at a little table, and they all knelt down at it. "You can take your armor off, if you like." He then pointed up at the ceiling. "I bought air purifiers to put in here, in case I was able to cure myself of my… condition." Henry didn't even let Virgil finish before he stood up to take his armor off, but Danse grabbed his arm. 

"Check your Geiger, first," he ordered. Henry looked. The needle was fairly low; survivable for a few hours.

"Looks green to me." The pun wasn't intended, but Virgil didn't seem to think so, judging by how he scowled, but he made no comment. Henry shed the suit before he sat back down, grateful to finally be able to breathe. Of course, unadulterated Super Mutant stench wasn't helping his nausea at all, but at least he could move. 

"Now, assuming you're willing to help us, what do you want as payment?" Danse inquired. 

"Before I was forced to leave," Virgil started. "I was working on a serum to reverse this mutation. It could return me to normal, so if you get in there, I need you to find it in my old office and bring it to me." Henry and Danse looked at each other. "I think that's pretty reasonable, in exchange for helping you."

"Alright. We'll see what we can do." Virgil nodded. 

"Good." He straightened his collar. "Now, first thing's first, do you two know how the synths get in and out of the facility?" Henry nodded. 

"Some kind of teleporter, right?" Virgil bobbed his head with a satisfied smirk. 

"You've certainly done your homework. Not many know about it. It's commonly referred to as the _'Molecular_ _Relay_.' De-materializes you in one place, re-materializes you in another. I'm sure it sounds like fantasy, but it's a reality." 

"So… we've got to get access to their teleporter?" Henry asked. 

"If you're going to infiltrate them, then you're going to have to use it. It's the only way to get in and out."

"The Brotherhood doesn't have access to that level of technology, and I doubt the Institute will simply allow us to use it," Danse groused. 

"I assumed as much, which leads me to my next question; have you ever seen an Institute Courser?" Danse gave Henry a sideways glance, to which he shrugged. "Coursers are synths, designed for one purpose. They're hunters. Operations go wrong, a synth goes missing, and Courser is dispatched. They're very good at what they do, and you're going to have to kill one." Henry huffed. 

"Seems a little cock-eyed. Why?"

"They're your ticket into the Institute's headquarters. Every Courser has special hardware that gives them a connection to the Relay. It's embedded in a chip in their heads, and you need that chip. I don't know exactly where you can find one. They haven't sent any after me, and sitting here waiting doesn't seem like a good plan. That means you're going to have to hunt one down." Danse hummed lowly.

"So, how do we find one?"

"The primary insertion point for Coursers is in the ruins of C.I.T., directly above the facility, so you'll want to start there. Now, the Relay causes heavy interference all across the EM spectrum." Virgil then cocked his head, and he pointed to Henry's Pip-Boy. "There a radio on that Pip-Boy?" Henry nodded. "When you reach the ruins, tune it to the lower end of the band and listen in. You should be able to hear the interference. Follow that signal, and it'll lead you to a Courser. From there…" He paused. "You'll just have to not get killed." Danse let out a deep breath. 

"We'll make do. Your ability to cooperate is... _appreciated_." Virgil nodded. 

"Of course." He tapped his fingers together, like a child about to ask for something. "Well… it's a long way back to the border, and I can't imagine it was easy to get here. Do you two want to stay here for the night?" Henry reached his arms over his head to stretch before he looked to Danse for an answer. The Paladin shook his head once, though it wasn't especially clear because of the heft of his helm. 

"Our supplies are severely limited, and we were told to be back at the border of the Glowing Sea as soon as possible. I'm afraid we'll have to decline." Virgil nodded, and he dusted his hands off.

"Alright. Good luck, then. You're going to need it." Henry gave him a thumbs-up that Virgil returned, and he got up to get back into his armor.

They left after they took their _Rad-X_ , and while the musky odor of Super Mutant was blessedly gone, nuclear fallout wasn't much more pleasing to the palette. The working plan was to walk as far and as quickly as possible to get back to the edge of the Glowing Sea in two days or less. Henry was about to fall asleep on his feet already because of his antihistamine, and the old bullet wound in his leg was starting to talk to him as they bypassed the Crater. 

"Henry." Henry perked up. 

"Yessir?"

"You're helmet isn't damaged is it?" 

"Nope." 

"Good… You have my apologies. I shouldn't have been so quick to pull the trigger." He then paused. "At the same time, though, it was reckless on your part to run in front of an aimed gun." His face reddened.

"You're one to call _me_ reckless! _I'm_ not the one who tried to blow the guy's goddamn head off!" 

"I understand that, and while you diffused the situation accordingly, there are better ways to do so than using yourself as a _meatshield_ ," Danse snapped. "Had I not missed, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now! I know you went through basic training, so it isn't that you're ignorant. There's no excuse to throw caution to the wind like that." Henry scowled, and he went to retort, but Danse's point sunk in. He sighed. 

"Won't happen again, _sir._ " There was a brief moment of silence between them, save for the hissing of their armor shocks as they walked. 

"My point is that you're not going to find your son if you're dead. I don't want you getting killed, especially not on my watch." Henry's shoulders fell from their tense stance, as much as they could relax in that damned frame that rubbed him raw, but he didn't lose himself. He said nothing. 

The journey through the wastes from then on was wordless. They spent two more tireless hours of trudging before they found a ruin some miles north of the Crater. It was a Red Rocket filling station, halfway buried by the sliding sediment, but the roof showed no signs of caving, so it was agreed that they stay there for the night to rest and eat before shoving off again. By the time they'd settled in the back room of the station, Henry's leg was burning and his shoulder was tight and stiff. He had a few stims in his bag, but it wasn't like he could take his armor off long enough to inject, for his Geiger was still in the red. It was all he could do to take his Rad-X and hope the pain would fade by the time he woke up.

Boredly, he messed around with the Pip-Boy screen that appeared on his armored arm, trying to figure out how to tune back to Diamond City radio. When he found the station, he gave Danse a nudge. 

"You don't mind if I turn the radio on, do you?"

Dansed hummed. "Granted. Just keep it turned down, if you can. Ghouls hunt by sound." Henry gave him a thumbs-up and turned the volume up until it was just loud enough for him to hear. After a little bit of stuttering exposition from the DJ, there was a little break of static, and _Crawl Out Through The Fallout_ started to play. Henry tapped his foot. "Feeling nostalgic?"

"This is the song they played at my wedding, right before I was sent Anchorage." Henry huffed. "Kind of ironic, huh?"

"You were in Anchorage?" Danse echoed. That single question held more uncontrolled emotion (aside from vexation) than anything else Henry heard him say since they met.

"...Sure was. Not for long though." Henry paused to flex his weak shoulder. "Fuckin' commie damn near blew my arm off in the first few hours of the battle. Took three surgeries and a month of therapy to get all the movement back, so that sucked." He then shrugged. "It was worth it, though. I got discharged, so I was able to help Nora with Shaun during the first few months." He grinned. Danse hummed again.

"You never do forget your first injury." 

Henry snorted. "Nope. What was yours?" Danse suddenly went quiet. His fingers flexed in their gauntlets. "Danny, come on, I told you mine." A huff.

"...A Mirelurk crushed my hand with its claw when I was still an Initiate," he uttered quickly. "It was nearly a month before I could even _hold_ a rifle again." Henry fought the urge to laugh. "I… wish it was more a more heroic tale. Paladin Krieg never let me hear the end of it." He cocked his head.

_"_ As utterly hilarious that is, I have never heard of a Mirelurk. _"_

"They are heavily mutated shellfish, with claws rivaling the size of a man's head. They are about as pleasant to deal with as you might imagine." Henry groaned. 

"I wanna know why it is that only the _bad shit_ mutates. Instead of something beneficial to people, we now have huge crabs that can break your arms!" 

Danse _chuckled_ a little. Not the usual smirk, but a few wheezes of genuine _laughter._ It was a nice sound, Henry had to admit, but not one he expected to hear. He eyed his book o' puns that was jutting out of his duffle bag, then flicked a glance back at his Paladin, who had started unpacking an MRE. His mischievous smile was hidden by his helm, and he made a note to take the book with him on their next assignment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Virgil is low key a cool dude and Yayyy the plot is finally going somewhere


	13. Get That Synth, Joe!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I did the math for the days’ passing hehe
> 
> And OOF I AM SO SORRY FOR DISAPPEARING FOR A MONTH
> 
> WRITER’S BLOCK HATES ME
> 
> This chapter is really rough, but screw it, it’s better than nothing. The plot should start picking up after this. Thank y’all for sticking with my lazy butt, you all have the patience of saints!

  
  


It took another day for them to get back to the edge of the Glowing Sea and be picked up to hightail it back to the Prydwen. By the time they made it back, it was the eleventh day of November; Veteran's Day. Not like it mattered to anyone on board. The holiday was likely forgotten. The snow hadn't forgotten, though. It was hellishly cold, right on the water. Henry's shoulder was so sore, he had to climb up into the hull with one arm. 

Roll went on as normal at 04:00 the following morning, as did breakfast at 4:30. That was until Henry was booted out of the mess hall to the flight deck again. With the report that Danse had filed the evening before, the hunt for the Courser was on, and within the hour, they were dropped off at the Cambridge Institute of Technology. 

Two lonely days of sheltering in the ruins passed.

"Hey, Pretty-Boy, I've got another good one."

"What did I say _multiple times_ about that nickname?"

" _I bought some shoes from a drug dealer the other day. I dunno what he laced them with, though, because I've been tripping all day!"_ Danse sighed and further busied himself by toying with the actuator in his gauntlet.

"I thought your purpose here was to look for a synth, not to regale me with the worst one-liners I've ever heard." Henry ignored him.

" _That cemetery over there is awful crowded. I bet people are just_ dying _to get in!"_

Danse groaned. "Oh, merciful Christ in heaven, Knight. In a box, into the Charles." Henry burst out laughing. 

"Did the stone-faced Paladin just make a joke?"

"Who said I was joking?"

"He did! He most certainly did!" Danse rolled his eyes, but he couldn't hide the slight smirk that curved his lips. "Does my irritation entertain you that much?"

"Well, something has to. We've been out here for two days listening to static, freezing our asses off, and playing _What Made_ That _Sound?_ is entertaining for only so long."

"Remind me again of why I haven't had you written up, or why I even associate with you?" Henry beamed at him. 

"Because we're friends, and we embrace each other's flaws! I'm horribly annoying, and you can't take a joke!" His Paladin huffed and shook his head. Abruptly, a squeak from Henry's radio broke the silence, and they both looked at his Pip-Boy. Henry brought the speaker up to his ear and had a listen. 

There was some static, with a dull squealing undertone, which was new. 

"Do you have a signal?" 

"Yeah, but…" Henry gazed out at the C.I.T. courtyard, his brow furrowed. "Virgil said this was the primary insertion point for Coursers…" Danse rose up from his spot on the floor. 

"That doesn't mean it can't be inserted somewhere else. For all we know, your radio could be causing interference for them and they know we're here, so they dispatched the Courser at another point." Henry hummed, stuffed his pun book into his bag, and turned his radio volume all the way up.

"Let's get going, then!"

They started up and down the waterline to see which direction made the beeping grow stronger. When they headed east, it became steadily louder. The signal led them away from the Cambridge Institute of Technology's central building, but they didn't make it off the campus when the signal became deafening. They were just on the edge of the skyscrapers of downtown Boston, right on the edge of C.I.T's property line. Above them loomed a broad, green tower, and even in its dereliction, Henry recognized it immediately.

He scoffed. "Greentech Genetics… Well, I'll be damned." Danse gazed up at the building.

"Correct me if I am wrong, but did you not mention you used to work here?" he asked. Henry nodded. 

"Yeah, I was an intern for the tech department here." He then snorted. "Of course, I was only here for a month before we got bombed in October, so…" 

"So you know the layout of the building." They looked at each other. "You lead the way, then. I'll cover you."

"Right." Henry went to the door, his gun drawn, only to find that it was already ajar. They looked at each other. Henry shrugged, and kicked it open and aimed. He scanned the lobby. No signs of active life, but the whole lobby looked like the scene of a tornado's touchdown. The reception desk was overturned, as were the chairs and potted plants. There was a catwalk, as well, that ran through the middle of the room. The lights, miraculously, were still on, but the two soldiers knew well that it wasn't a good sign, for there was a trail of blood leading towards the stairwell.

"Turn the radio off. Whatever did this might still be here," Danse whispered. Henry nodded, and he switched his Pip-Boy off. "Is there anything of interest here that the Institute might be looking for?" 

"There were a few high-profile projects I heard about from the eggheads in charge, but nothing I could make sense of."

"Whatever it is, that synth might be after it. Do you know where this information was held?" Henry thought for a moment. 

"No, but they only let one or two techs onto the top floor at all, so if our Courser's poking around for old experiments, it's probably up there." Then he groaned. "Of course, the catwalk up to the maintenance elevator is falling in on itself worse than I am, so we're gonna have to take the scenic route." Danse dipped his head briefly, and he gestured for Henry to lead. 

Henry strode out of the lobby, towards the northern wing of the facility, but before he could even cross the threshold, gunshots popped and echoed down the shaft of the building. He sucked back under the cover of the lobby's ceiling and gazed up. A voice called out.

_"The Courser's on the second floor! Kill on sight!"_ Henry swore. 

"Looks like someone beat us to starting a party here…" 

Danse huffed. "Then we can't linger here. Get us to and up the stairs. I'll cover your back." Henry gave him a sharp nod. They darted out into the shaft, and Danse gazed up at the catwalks above them with his gun readied. A figured raced across the second floor's catwalk, and a handful of men came chasing after it. The figure whipped around, drew a pistol, and fired. The blasts were blue, the color of Institute fusion cells, and each hit their marks dead-on. One of the pursuers fell to the first floor as Henry passed the threshold into the stairwell. 

There was a green bandana on his face, a sizzling wound in his chest, and his eyes were wide and glassy; he either was dead already, or well on his way. Danse grabbed the man by his shirt and tossed him into the stairway before he stopped at Henry's side to have a look at the body. His face twisted into a scowl.

"Now, what in God's name are Gunners doing here, chasing after a synth?" Henry gave him a strange look. 

_"Gunners?"_

"Mercenaries, and some of the most vicious I've ever seen. This might be more trouble than we expected." The Paladin righted himself and gave Henry a nudge to get him going. Henry hiked up the broken stairs with his sponsor in tow. 

"So… don't you think we should call for reinforcements or something?"

"No. We don't have time to wait." An explosion above them rattled the whole building. A grenade had gone off.

_"The Courser's on the fourth floor and heading toward the elevator! Don't let it get that synth!"_

"Synth?" Henry echoed. He stopped at the top of the stairs to look up and down the hallway before he went charging out onto the catwalk, Danse just at his side. "You heard what Virgil said; Coursers are dispatched when a synth goes missing."

"Which doesn't happen often."

"That means we have to catch him before he finds what he's looking for." Henry figured that the Gunners were a blessing, if it meant slowing that Courser down.

They hit the next set of stairs and hauled up. As they crossed the third floor catwalk, more gunfire echoed down the shaft. There was a scream, and another Gunner came raining down from two platforms above. Danse grabbed Henry to stop him and pull him back before the body could land on him. 

_"Courser's heading for the sixth floor!"_ They went running up the next few sets of stairs and along the catwalks without issue, aside from the gunfire preceding them. They hit the eighth floor without spending a cell. 

Another voice rang out from the floor above.

_"Guard the elevator! Courser's comin-"_ A single gunshot cut off the call.

Henry heard Danse mumble a curse under his breath as he led the way up the final set of stairs. The stairway led not into the shaft, but into a dark lounge. Henry didn't see the blood that had soaked into the russet-colored carpet until squelched under his boot when he stepped in a puddle. He shivered, uncomfortable, and he lingered a little to get behind his Paladin when he spotted the door on the far side of the room.

"The elevator's on the other side of the lounge. If we can catch him, it'll be close," he murmured. Danse didn't respond, and jogged over to open the door, only to let out a guttural curse. Henry came up behind him, his gun raised, and glanced over his shoulder. Just ahead was the room in which the private elevator was housed. The shaft had just closed up when Danse opened the lounge door. Two men were leaned up against either side of the elevator door. Their brains were a bubbling mess on the walls behind them. 

Danse stabbed the elevator button with an armored finger, but the doors didn't open. His fists curled in their gauntlets. Henry swallowed. 

"What now?" The elevator, now vacated, opened. Danse stepped in. 

"We follow until the trail goes cold." Henry stepped in after him and pressed the button to send them up. The doors above opened and spit them out into another lobby, but the synth in question was nowhere in sight. 

_"I will not repeat myself; what is the password?"_

_"I don't know it! We was just posted here!"_

A gun popped, and there was a wail from a different voice.

_"Hey, fuck you, man! He was tellin' the truth!"_

_"The password. Now."_

"I think we got lucky…" Henry breathed. The Paladin stalked out of the elevator, and he looked up at the high ceiling. There were two open floors above the lobby, and the very top floor was where the voices were coming from. Henry followed him across the room and into the stairway on the far side to climb up. 

_"I don't know it, man! I'm tellin' you!"_

_"I don't believe you."_ Another gunshot popped. The victim screamed. _"Your other hand is next if you don't give me what I want."_

They arrived at the top, but they didn't go in yet. There, just a few paces away from the threshold of the stairs, was a man in a black leather coat, the white F.C. pistol in his hand pressed into the tied palm of his one-handed prisoner.

"I don't fuckin' know, man, I keep tellin' you!" The Courser pulled the trigger. The Gunner howled. Danse motioned for Henry to come over, and he pointed to the side of the room opposite of the Courser. 

"Flank it from that side, and we'll both fire at my signal. I will cover the door to ensure it can't flee to the elevator. _Do not_ aim for its head; we cannot risk damaging that chip." Henry gave him a thumbs-up, and he crept out from the stairwell in complete silence. The Courser kept hounding his living captive, blissfully unaware of the Knight who stalked him just meters away. 

Henry raised his gun and lined up his sights with the Courser's back. He glanced over at his Paladin, who, too, was ready to fire. Danse sent Henry a look and dipped his head. Henry returned the nod, and he hooked his finger onto the trigger. 

The Courser groaned as his victim howled, and he pressed his pistol to the prisoner's temple. Henry squeezed the trigger. The synth ducked to the side as the shot was fired, and he rolled out of the way before he sprang to his feet and went running along the edge of the room. Henry kept firing, but the synth's speed spared him every blast. As the Courser ran, he began fumbling with something on his belt, but Henry didn't realized what it was until the Courser suddenly vanished mid-stride. 

Henry huffed, and he still held his gun up, but with the lack of noise, he didn't know where in the world to aim. 

"To think Stealth Boys still exist…" he mumbled. There was a click. Henry ducked down just as that blue shot was fired. A sharp blow was delivered to his leg, and he fell to one knee. He surged up and to the side from which the blow was dealt and his shoulder made loose contact with a mass. 

Footsteps went beating away from him and towards the door. 

"He's coming for you, Danny!" Danse had his rifle up, and the broadness of his armor blocked the doorway, but, unable to see their target, he was just as much of a sitting duck as Henry was. Another shot was fired, but it didn't get past Danse's helm in spite of the close range. Danse swept an arm out, but he hit nothing. 

The padding of footsteps went around the room again. 

An idea came to Henry, and he stooped down and swung his bag over his shoulder to rummage through it. He pulled out the breakfast MRE, ripped it open, and grabbed a handful of the oatmeal before he stood back up. The footsteps came round to him once more. When he heard the click of the cocking pistol, he leaped in the direction of the noise and tossed the oatmeal dust into the mass with which he collided. 

There was a cry, and he grabbed the hidden Courser by the arm in one hand and by the belt with the other. When he found the Stealth Boy on the synth's hip, he ripped it off and threw it away. With the refraction field gone, the shrieking Courser revealed itself, eyes red from the dust in his face, so Henry spun him around in his arms and held him up in front of him like a meatshield. 

"Paladin!" Danse's rifle clicked, and then came the ringing blast of the gun, then the jolt from the Courser when the cell made it mark. Two more shots were fired into the synth's chest. The Courser stopped struggling, so Henry gently set him down and took a breath. Danse came plodding over, but his sights were still trained on the Courser's body. Henry crouched and pressed his fingers against the curve of the synth's jaw. 

There was a heartbeat, but it was hard to pick up. He shrugged, figuring that was good enough, and stood up. 

"So that was the so-called _terrifying_ Courser?" Danse murmured, and he prodded the fallen synth with the toe of his boot. "Hm. I've dealt with ferals that were more tenacious." Henry laughed a little, then went silent when a thought occurred to him.

"Um… How are we gonna get the chip out of this guy's head?" Danse hummed, and he pulled his helm off to reveal a thoughtful frown.

"As to not damage the chip, I suppose we'll detach the head, but I'm not sure as to what we can use."

Henry poked around in the lower levels while Danse, per his own insistence, guarded the Courser's body. He found the maintenance closet where he found a number of tools, including a plumber's handsaw, so he brought that back up to the lab. When Henry came back up, Danse went to take the saw from him, but a little voice calling to them had them both stall dead. 

"Hello?" They both looked over towards the door where the Courser had his two hostages. There was a gap in the wall where a girl poked her head out. "Excuse me, but... can you get me out? Please?" Henry and Danse exchanged glances before they strode over to investigate. Henry leaned against the window. 

"Now how in the world did you get caught up in there?" he asked with a little smile. Her worried expression eased. 

"Those Gunners… they grabbed me when I was on my way to Bunker Hill, tried to get some kind of ransom from the Institute. Then that Courser showed up, so they put me in here." Henry's easy smile fell, and he looked at Danse. His Paladin's eyes had hardened. 

"The Courser was after _you?"_ he inquired. The girl nodded. 

"Yeah." She tensed a little when Danse's scowl darkened. "Um… since I answered your questions, will you let me out?" There was a brief pause. "O-one of the guards had the lock's code, in his pocket. There should be a panel by the door…" Henry looked up at Danse, admittedly shaking in his own breeches.

"Sir?"

"Retrieve the Courser's head. I'll deal with the synth." The trapped synth went doe-eyed and ran over to the other side of her prison. Henry's fists clenched, and he nodded before he turned on his heel. As he prepared to behead the Courser, he watched Danse find the passcode and stride into the synth's cell. From there, Henry couldn't see anything, but he could hear the synth's screaming before it was cut off by Danse's rifle. 

A shudder rippled through him, but he shook it off, and started sawing away. 

Danse came out of the cell a few moments later, and Henry startled at his return, for the Paladin's face was speckled with droplets of fresh blood. Henry took a brief break from his work to reach into his bag for a kerchief and canteen that he handed to Danse. Danse whispered a "thank you," and dampened the cloth so he could clean his face. 

When he finished, he poured the canteen's remaining water over Henry's hands to wash off the blood. 

"So, um…." Henry started, but he didn't know how to word his question. Danse gave him a questioning raise of his brow. "What are we gonna do with the head?" The Paladin snorted, and he reached over to grab the Courser's hair to lift it up and examine it.

"I suppose I'll find a place to put it. As for decoding it… Well, I would hate to say it, but I'm not sure if even Proctor Quinlan could glean any data out of that chip." Henry groaned. 

"That's right, and Virgil said he doesn't know much about synths to begin with…" He thought for a moment. Then it came to him, and he clicked his tongue. "I've got somebody."


	14. 500 VIEWS LETS GO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y’all so much for the kudos and bookmarks ;u;  
> It ain’t much but it means a lot to momma  
> I know 500 views isn’t huge in the grand scheme of the inter webs either, but DAMMIT ITS A MILESTONE OKAY

Henry didn't look forward to heading back to Goodneighbor. After all, someone tried to mug him as soon as he walked in, and said someone ended up getting shanked to death in front of him by the town's very own mayor. The smell of the place wasn't exactly palettable, either. As they passed by the shops, Henry heard Danse flip his safety off. He didn't blame him. His was off, too, for the day was coming to an end upon their arrival and they were getting weird looks from the locals.

Amari was back in her basement when they found her. She smiled when Henry strode in, then jolted when Danse plodded behind him. She put whatever gadget she was working with onto the counter and turned to face them fully. 

"Mister Frederickson, you're alive! How did you fare in the Glowing Sea? Did you find Virgil?" He smiled back at her. 

"I sure did, made a break in the case." He then cleared his throat, and he pulled the Courser's head off his belt. "Now, not to be overly straightforward, but I've a question for you; do you know anything about decoding Courser chips? Because we need one decoded, and you were the only one I could think of." Amari sent him a look as if she had just choked on a sharp potato chip. 

"Why you need-" She paused. "You killed a Courser, didn't you?"

"We caught him off-guard," Danse clarified. "My Knight has told me you have worked with synths in the past and gleaned positive results. If you can decode this, I can promise recompense from the Brotherhood of Steel." Amari grimaced. 

"I'm afraid not. I've never even _seen_ a Courser before, much less worked on one." Henry's smile fell. 

"Amari, come on, there has to be something you can do. You improvised a crazy thing on Nick and it turned out." Amari shook her head. 

"I'm sorry, but the least of our worries would be losing the data if I made even a small mistake." Henry uttered a curse under his breath. She hummed. "Actually…" Henry looked up, hopeful. "There _are_ some people in the Commonwealth who may be able to help you. They call themselves 'The Railroad.'"

" _The Railroad?"_ he echoed. 

"They're an underground organization who help synths escape the Institute and wipe their memories so they can live normal lives and blend in with humans. They are the only ones who have a chance at infiltrating Institute security." Danse hummed lowly.

"How do we contact them?"

"I'm unsure. I don't know any of their members personally, and I don't know their location. Usually, an agent of their's shows up when someone needs new memories, but one of them told me a code so I could find them in case of an emergency. _Follow the Freedom Trail._ " Henry and Danse looked at each other. 

"Alright… do you know what that could mean?" Henry asked. 

"No, but I recall a Pre-War landmark that goes by a similar name. Perhaps you could start there?" He shrugged. 

"Well, alright, it's a start." He hitched the Courser's head back onto his belt, and he beamed at her. "Thanks, Amari, you're the best!" She smiled a little. 

The two soldiers headed back out onto the street after they bade her goodbye and obtained a shopping bag to put the head in, and it was then decided that they would stay the night in Goodneighbor, for dusk had fallen over Boston, so they headed over to the shops to stock up on rounds and rations. The shops weren't much to write home about; one was a general goods run by an acidic old biddy of a Ghoul, and the other was the gunsmith owned by an Assaultron. 

Danse immediately volunteered to head into the gun shop to buy ammunition in the case the Assaultron glitched, given he was literally wearing a tank, which left Henry to deal with the Ghoul. The smell of burned flesh wasn't pleasant, but bearable. What gave Henry the willies about her was her appearance, now that he could actually see a Ghoul that wasn't trying to eat his face.

She had a head of thinning hair and a pair of glossy, fully-black eyes. Her skin was wrinkled, stretched, striated, and grey, her nose was just a gaping hole, and her lips just barely parted to show rotted teeth behind them. She was dressed up in a patch-work suit, and a nametag on her vest read "Daisy." Her face was bitter when he walked in, and grew all the darker when he startled at her appearance. 

He stepped up to the counter to greet her, in spite of the chills that cascaded his spine, and forced a little smile. The smell of old, burned meat hung around her like an aura. 

"Ah, a new face walks into my store, and you ain't even screamin' yet. How polite," she grumbled, and she leaned onto the counter. Her voice was like the roughest sandpaper Henry had ever felt. "What're you in here for, smoothskin?" Henry puffed. She was certainly charismatic. 

"Now, why would I be screaming?" He planted his elbow up onto the countertop and grinned crookedly. "You don't have radroaches, do you?" Daisy snorted. 

"Bah. Some smooth-skinned newcomers ain't never seen a Ghoul before, is all. Can't handle a friendly face, I say." Henry tapped his fingers on the countertop. 

"Oh, I don't mind…" He let out a breath, and his request utterly fled from his mind to make room for a suddenly burning question. "How's it like, being a Ghoul? Just curious." The Ghoul's lips twisted up. 

"It's a lot worse when people always ask you about it all the time. On the upside, I'd say I look pretty good for two-hundred-twenty years old." She coughed. "Now, you buyin' anything?" Henry frowned.

"W-Wait a second. You're two-hundred-twenty years old?" Daisy rolled her eyes. 

"Okay, okay, it's more like 270, but don't go blabbin' that to everyone. Being a Ghoul means you live a long time, honey. You stop countin' birthdays after a while." Henry gaped at her. "Do you have any idea what it's like, being that old?"

He huffed. "I… I do, actually." The Ghoul snarled. 

"Now you're just makin' fun of me! If you're as old as me, you'd have been around since before the Big War!" Then a sour smile curved her lips to expose her rotten teeth. "Let's hear it, then! Come on, smoothskin, tell me what the world was like before the War, if you're really so ancient!" Henry took a moment, and he sighed. 

"I… I had a beautiful house with a white picket fence and a yard with the greenest grass you'd ever seen. I had a wife, a new baby..." As he spoke, Daisy's face softened. "... and I had a brand-new car, a shiny black Corvega, that I'd drive us around in on Sundays after church. I remember the day before it all happened…" A lump formed in his throat, but he didn't let her hear it. "...I bought my son's first Halloween costume. We were... gonna dress him up as a pumpkin, and take him trick-or-treating around the neighborhood." Daisy thought for a moment. Her black eyes glossed over.

"The old world sure was somethin', wasn't it?" She sniffed, then barked out a hoarse laugh. "Sorry. Last thing you wanna see is an old lady tearin' up." She heaved herself up to stand fully upright, and she rubbed her hands together. "Alright, back to business, sweetie. What do you need?"

"Oh, uh, heh, I need to grab some water, rations." He then shivered, and he glanced over his shoulder at the snow piled up outside, then at the thin jacket he was wearing. "And maybe a better coat than what I've got on." Daisy snorted. 

"No problem, honey. I think I've got a nice jacket around here that'll fit you."

Daisy rooted around through her shop for water canisters while Henry idly chatted with her. She hauled a dozen clean water cans as well as a thick fleece jacket. It fit nicely, tightly enough to put under his uniform's bomber vest. 

As Henry counted the caps in his satchel, Daisy leaned against the counter, thinking, and she hummed. 

"You know what? Don't worry about the money." Henry looked up at her, and he shook 

"I can't take this for free." Daisy raised a brow and shoved the jacket against his chest. 

"Just take it. For old time's sake, honey. I'm gettin' by alright enough." He went to argue, only to startle when Danse called him from the street. 

"Is the Ghoul giving you trouble, Knight?" Daisy's bitter scowl returned to her, and she averted her oil-bead eyes from the Paladin.

Henry coughed, and he replied back, "No, just finishing up." Danse hummed. 

"Very well. I'm going to book a room for us at the hotel in the square, then. I'll meet you there." Henry gave him a thumbs-up, and when Danse left his view, he sighed and turned back to Daisy. 

"Ain't _he_ charmin'?" she groused. Henry chuckled uneasily.

"Yeah, sorry about that. Don't take it personally. He's the same way with everybody at first, Ghoul or not, but he's a good guy, trust me." Daisy puffed. 

"Well, you seem like a decent sort, so I'll ignore his snide little remark." Henry went to say something, but Daisy cut him off by raising her hand. "Hold on, I've got somethin' else for you." She turned around and scurried over to the back room again. Henry groaned.

"Daisy, come on, you've already done enough." Daisy audibly cackled, and she came sauntering back with a much larger coat of denim and fleece. 

"Give this to your soldier friend. Might put him in a better mood." Henry blushed. "I'm not takin' it back, so no backchat." He gingerly took it from her and looked it over, then frowned at her. 

"You're gonna go broke if you keep this up." Daisy shrugged. 

"Hey, you made an old girl smile. That's pay enough for me. Now, honey, get outta my store before he comes callin' for ya again." Henry sighed. 

"Thanks, Daisy." Daisy waved at him. 

"You're a good kid. If you wanna test your wit against another blast from the past, go say 'hi' to the Ghoul livin' in the hotel for me, if you see him." 

Henry retraced his steps back towards Scollay Square, then veered to the left for the hotel looming over Goodneighor. He didn't recall the name "Hotel Rexford," nor did he recall making note of the original building, but it seemed decent enough from the outside. That was until he walked in and stumbled between two chem dealers having an argument. 

_Lovely place they have here, don't they?_

The architecture of the place wasn't horrendous, quite nice, actually, to still be standing after the surrounding city was heavily bombed, but the decor and lack thereof was far from pleasing to the eye. Dust coated everything, cobwebs clustered in every corner, radroach nymphs skittered across the floor. Henry shuddered, uncomfortable, and strode up to the lobby attendant at the counter.

He was pointed up to the third floor when he asked about which room Danse had booked for the night, so he went striding up the staircase. Danse was fully settled in the rented room by the time Henry walked in. His armor was set in the corner of the room by the window, his bag was hung on the bedpost, and he was sitting on the bed itself. He had since changed into a freshly-laundered wifebeater and faintly grease-stained jeans. His uniform was folded neatly on his duffle bag, and a faded notepad that he was writing in was propped up on his knee.

When Henry came over to the bed, he saw with slight, silent amusement that Danse was writing a to-do list. He had a crossword booklet on the nightstand, too, though it had yet to be completed. 

Henry dropped his duffle bag, the head of the Courser, and their rations onto the floor at the foot of the bed so he could stretch. Danse looked up from his list and uttered a greeting, then quirked a brow at Henry's newly-bought jacket. 

"Did some clothes-shopping, did you?" he inquired. While his face didn't suggest a tease, his easy tone most certainly did. Henry puffed and smiled a little.

"Kind of." He then leaned down to pull up the denim jacket Daisy had given him, and he tossed it onto Danse's lap. "Courtesy of Daisy's Discounts." Danse frowned and examined the jacket. 

"It's of a fine quality, but how much did you pay for this?"

"Nothing." A glare. 

" _Nothing_ ?"  
  


"She gave us coats and food for free. Because she's nice." Danse gazed back over the coat for a moment before he set his list aside to pull the jacket on. He stood up to ensure the fit, and he hummed. 

"That was generous of her." He took a deep breath. Henry nodded, and he shed his coat so he could get comfortable on the edge of the bed. The frame creaked as Danse eased himself back down. 

Rexford was thankfully warm, even with the snowfall that was starting outside. Most of the citizens were starting to clear the streets, now, so it was far more quiet on the street below. He had a look around the room, now that he had sat down. There was a little table with a single chair in the corner furthest from the door, and there were two windows, but Danse's armor was eclipsing one of them completely. The bed itself had the wooden frame of a queen-sized bed, but consisted of a pair of three-inch-thick mattresses and no base-board. 

He figured it was better than sleeping on the ground like they had for the two days they spent tracking the Courser. He rooted through the bag of rations and started stuffing what he could into his duffle-bag. He was able to get most of it in there, and he set the rest aside for Danse to carry. 

"If you would not mind me asking…" Danse started, and he looked up from his notepad. Henry perked up from the floor to look at him. 

"Yeah?"

"Was the old world really like that?" Henry frowned. 

"Like _what_?"

"Like how you described to the Gho-" Danse caught himself- "to the shop-owner. Was that truly how it was, or were you telling her that to soothe her?" Henry's face burned a little, and he reached back to scratch his neck.

"Y-yeah. Yeah, the world really was like that." He pointed to the window. "You know, we're standing in what used to be one of Boston's fanciest plazas." He puffed. "It's just a ghoul-infested ghetto these days. You can't even tell what it used to be." Danse continued to go through his list.

"My apologies. It probably is a sensitive subject." His voice was stern, but still soft. Henry smiled.

"No, no! I mean, sure, I miss not getting shot at every time I walk outside, but if you're curious, ask away. I don't mind." 

A moment of silence passed. Henry was about to reach for his canteen to get a drink when Danse piped up.

"How different was day-to-day life?"

"Well… folks could just get up early in the morning, get to work by nine, come home by six, and usually didn't have to worry about getting robbed. Most folks didn't carry because they didn't have to," he roused. "And… just about any nuclear family could put a halfway decent meal on the table, and they didn't have to farm or hunt for it. You could just go out and buy it." Danse sighed. 

"That sounds… unbelievably easy." A pause. A moment of thought. "What was it like for you, specifically, if I may press?" Henry was admittedly a little stumped on how to answer that. Up until that very moment, he had blotted out his unenjoyable younger years over time. It was only just now coming back to him.

"Well... " He looked up to the ceiling to think about how to word it. A bitter taste crept into his mouth just thinking about it. 

"If you feel I've crossed a boundary, I completely understand." Henry shook his head. 

"Nah, don't worry... We didn't have much. Y'know, we lived in the cheapest, nastiest apartment complex in Lexington. I was lucky if I got to eat three times a day." He chuckled apprehensively. "My mother and I, uh… let's just say that bipolar old biddy is the one thing I _don't_ miss from back then."

"What of your father?"

"Oh, that loser booked it before I turned five. And since women weren't really in the workforce when I was kid… Well, ma had a hard time paying the rent without him." Henry cleared his throat. "She, uh, kicked me out the day I turned sixteen, said I was just dead weight at that point, so I had to go couch-hopping until I got my own place and met Nora. It wasn't fun until I got a real job in the army, but I got on okay." A thought then occurred to him. "Hey, you're from D.C., right? How is it down there, these days?" 

Danse was listening intently up until that point, but when Henry asked, his face just went blank. His brow furrowed, and he looked down, his stubbled jaw clenching and releasing in thought. Henry bit his cheek. 

"Hey, if you don't wanna talk about it-"

"No, it isn't that. It's… In comparison to how you described your world, the Capital Wasteland is hellish, perhaps even more so than the Commonwealth." He thought for a moment. "When I was a boy, before the Brotherhood arrived, one could equate avoiding Ghouls and raiders to dodging bullets. They were nearly unavoidable outside of the cities."

"That sounds fun." Danse scoffed. 

"Trust me, it most certainly was not." He then pointed to the scar that nicked his right eyebrow. "I stood up to a raider _once_ , and I would have lost an eye for it, had I not wriggled out of his grip." Henry looked back down at the floor.

"Did you have any family?"

"Not _technically,_ no. I was on my own since I was young. I survived on picking through scrap some miles out of Rivet City, and when I was old enough, I was able to get by on parting out salvaged machines and repairing guns. While I was trying my hand as a merchant, I met a guy named Cutler." He laughed a little, and a certain fondness, nostalgia, even, curved his mouth into a little smirk. "We were like brothers, in a way. We watched out for each other, shared the rent in an apartment for a few years, until the Brotherhood came through on a recruiting run." Henry hummed and bobbed his head. 

"So… that's when you were initiated?" Danse nodded. "How old were you?" He thought for a moment, and he tapped the eraser of his pencil against his paper.

"We were probably… seventeen or eighteen when we joined, I think." Henry took a sharp breath in through his teeth. “We knew we weren’t going to go anywhere as scrappers and handymen, so we talked about it and enlisted.”

"Is Cutler still…?" Danse’s brow furrowed again.

"Some years later, a few months after we were posted to the Prydwen, Cutler's unit vanished on a scouting op. It took some persistence, but I was able to convince my commanding officer to allow me assemble a squad and search for him." He took a deep shuddering breath, as if to brace himself to remember. "It took the better part of a month, but we managed to track him to a Super Mutant hive." Henry's chest tightened. "Everyone but Cutler was slaughtered, though I wish he would have been so lucky.

"He ended up exposed to the Forced Evolutionary Virus, and by the time we found him, he was no longer human. Paladin Krieg ordered me to-" He caught himself again. " _It was my responsibility_ to put him down." His grip was so tight on his notepad that his thumbnail was starting to wear through the yellowed paper. Henry bit his knuckle.

"Hey, look, I'm sorry I asked."

Danse shook his head. "You couldn't have possibly known." He took another deep breath, then puffed out the very semblance of a laugh. "It's odd… You remind me of him, sometimes. He had your same godawful sense of humor, always trying to make me laugh with some idiotic stunt or deplorable pun." Henry couldn't find the strength to make himself snicker. 

"Well." He reached for the pack of cigarettes in his duffle bag. He pulled two smokes out as well as two matches, and he offered one of each to Danse, who had taken to the thousand-yard stare and grown a little pale. "You look like you need one, too, Pretty-Boy." Danse gazed at what Henry offered him, and he took them from him with a murmured "thank you."

They both lit up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Affinity convos are haaaaaard
> 
> Okay, so like, I have no idea what I’m doing anymore. I’m trying to update regularly but stuff gets crazy around the holidays. The story should start picking up after all dis so yayyyyyy
> 
> Also, I know I made a small diversion on Danse’s past but Bethesda didn’t give us much to work with so I will do it myself


	15. Two Tribes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this was rough to churn out. Writers block is kicking me in the backside again but I’m getting back into the swing of things. Thank you to all the kind comments, it ain’t much but it makes my flippin day and we are FINISHING THIS FIC, dagnabit!

Henry was pleasantly allowed to sleep in for a few hours before Danse gave him a nudge to wake up. By morning, a strong chill had settled into the hotel and had Henry shivering as he dressed himself. 

Danse had already been awake and suited up for a while by the time five AM rolled around. Henry could have sworn that he never slept, and the dark circles under the Paladin's eyes were highly evident of that. If he'd ever noticed Danse getting out of bed, he didn't recall, but he most certainly recalled him twitching during the night. Henry was generally a heavy sleeper, but when they settled into that creaky, half-collapsed bedframe, he could feel it ripple every time his Paladin trembled and mumbled throughout the night. 

He didn't care too much, though. He was so tired from the Courser hunt and the tedious trek from Cambridge to Goodneighbor, he ended up falling asleep in spite of Danse's nocturnal disturbances. He didn't bring it up in the morning. They were out of the Hotel Rexford by seven o'clock, their bags on their shoulders. As they passed the Old State House, Danse had Henry stop on the street, to which Henry gave him a questioning look. 

"Everything okay?" Danse dipped his head in a nod. 

"I needed gun oil from the Assaultron, but I only just remembered that I neglected to buy it yesterday." Henry shrugged. 

"Alrighty. Want I should go with you?" Danse shook his head. 

"No. I should only be a moment. Go clear the gate so we aren't caught by surprise by anything outside." Henry gave him a thumbs up, and he headed over toward the gate. The shops were in plain view of Goodneighbor's main entrance, so he was able to watch his Paladin as he strode over to the line of shops _,_ however Danse completely bypassed _Kill Or Be Killed_ and rather made a bee-line to _Daisy's Discounts._ Henry watched him stop at the storefront, lean his head back against his armor's frame, and step inside. He poked his head out of the gate briefly to ensure there wasn't anything out there, then sucked back in to watch what was surely to be a spectacle. 

From where he was standing, it was difficult to see what was going on, but Henry was able to see Daisy, who had just set up for the day, startle at his approach. Danse stood there for a moment, inaudibly murmuring, and Daisy gawked at him intensely, silently, for the entire time. When he finished, she snorted a raspy guffaw. 

"After the lip you gave me yesterday?" she hissed quite loudly. "What's the occasion, Pretty-Boy? Christmas is over a month away!" Danse didn't falter in the face of her bitterness.

"Common decency, nothing more," he mumbled. From the gate, he was difficult to hear, so Henry drifted closer. "Of course, it doesn't seem like it is in abundance here…" Daisy shook her head. 

"Whatever, smoothskin. If the coat fits, great. If not, give it to your buddy there. Either way, don't let the door hit ya in the ass." With that said, she waved. "Go on, shoo!" Danse folded his arms, and he turned on his heel. Henry scrambled to act like he hadn't been eavesdropping, and he leaned on the wall in wait. 

Henry recalled the tour guide from when he had to drive through Boston to see Nora's family for Christmas and Easter. It was a Protectron with unique coding to act as a historian of sorts to save the city tax money, and he was surprised to see it in working order over two hundred years later. Danse was quick to stop in his tracks when the robot came into view. Henry stopped, too, and he flipped his safety off. 

"Be on your guard. There's no telling how exposure and lack of upkeep have affected its perception of people." Henry nodded, and Danse led the way down the street to the unit. The unit didn't turn to gaze at them until Danse called it out, "Unidentified Protectron unit, state your identification and purpose, please."

It pivoted to look, and its arms swivelled in their sockets. 

"Welcome, patriot," it greeted. "to Boston Common, the start of the _Freedom Trail._ I will be your guide to learn you more about the _Freedom Trail_ and the history of Boston Common." Its voice was nostalgically slow and monotone and nearly impossible to understand due to the aged grain, but it was a welcome sound, nonetheless. There was a plywood sign, with words crudely painted on it, _"At journey's end, follow freedom's lantern."_ Danse's expression visibly relaxed for a moment, likely having realized he wasn't going to be fried in his armor by a Protectron's taser, but he was quick stiffen again. 

"Very well. Tell us about this _"Freedom_ _Trail"_ , then," he inquired. The tour guide pointed one claw to the pavement to a red line engraved into the sidewalk. 

"Starting here at Boston Common, follow the red path as it winds its way through our great city's streets," it deadpanned. "Markers on the _Trail_ are placed at many famous historic sites. See Paul Revere's House, the Old North Church, the Old State House, Bunker Hill, and many more!" Henry shrugged. 

"You know, I'd say that sounds easy enough, but…" He trailed off at the sound of the distant gunfire that echoed throughout the city since they left Goodneighbor. 

"Considering that _and_ Boston's size, I'd say we have a long search ahead of us." Danse let out a sigh and ran his hand through his hair. Henry hummed. 

"Well, led the way." After he thanked the tour guide, Henry followed after his Paladin. 

The chill of the mid-November wind wasn't buffered much by Boston's skyscrapers, and the whistling of the breeze blowing through the broken windows didn't ease the tension at all. The distant gunfire and battlecries of raiders was easy enough to avoid, but potential threats gone so far unseen made Henry feel like all eyes were on him. The hissing hydraulics in Danse's armor frame and crunching of his boots through the dingy snow were small comforts, and at least he had some layers going to keep him warm. 

They strode along North Street, past the Revere House, and continued into northern Boston. Bronze crests were situated on the ground in front of the landmarks deemed most notable, each reading "Boston - The Freedom Trail," however at some point, the engraved line was cut off by rubble, only to be replaced by a crudely-painted red line. Henry had a look at the street signs as he covered Danse's back, gears churning in his head to recall where it would lead them. 

It finally came to him.

"Danny," he called, softly so prying ears wouldn't easily detect him. Danse's stride didn't hitch, but he hummed in acknowledgement. "We're headed toward Bunker Hill, if I remember right. Do you know if it's friendly there or not?" Danse nodded. 

"One of the recon teams reported Bunker Hill had been settled by caravaners. If that's where we're headed, we might glean some kind of information from them regarding our search. I f we can't find anything there, we will have to report back to the airport to have a proper search party gathered," he then pointed to the bloodied plastic shopping bag tied to Henry's belt. "That synth's head is our only way into the Institute, and the longer we linger out here in the open with it, the more we risk losing it." Henry lifted his arm up to gaze at it under his duffle bag, then gave it a reassuring pat. 

It wasn't long before they hit the northern waterline. Just across the Washington Street Bridge stood the Bunker Hill Monument, fragmented along its shaft, but still standing proud amidst the grey, burned wastes. As soldiers drew closer, looming walls of plywood and barbed wire that surrounded the tower came into view. A number of armed guards stood behind them, and their sights were quick to be trained on them as they approached. Danse stepped directly in front of Henry to eclipse him from the line of sight of the guards.

"Stay behind me," he murmured. "If they start shooting, do not run." Henry nodded.

They were a few yards from the wall when one of the men called out to them.

"Stop right there!" Danse stopped dead and went down on one knee. His gun was clenched tightly in his gauntlets. Henry crouched right behind him, his finger hovering over _Righteous Authority's_ trigger. "Travellers, Raiders, or caravan guards?"

"Brotherhood of Steel infantry," Danse answered back. The guards all exchanged wary glances. "I can assure you that we're peaceful." 

_"What's your visual?"_

The guard that greeted them looked down behind the wall. "Two newbies, Kessler, said they're with the Brotherhood of Steel."

_"Are they peaceful?"_

"That's what the one guy said, but he's armed…" A woman clambered up to the guard's side, and they spoke to each other briefly before she spoke up again. 

"Are there more than just you two?" she asked. Danse shook his head. 

"No." She folded her arms and gave the guard a nudge. 

The guard nodded, and he called down again, "Alright, open 'er up!" There was a pause before the gates to Bunker Hill squealed open. He heard Danse let out a deep breath, and he stood back up, but he kept an arm curled back to ensure Henry stayed behind him until they crossed the threshold.

The settlement surrounding the monument was puny and reeked of the strange, two-headed cattle Henry still had yet to get used to. There were a few little market stands just posterior the obelisk, but they were heavily occupied, so they skirted them entirely. A bar, shambled and lonely, that stood behind the market was empty, for it was the middle of the day.

Henry spotted it, gave Danse a nudge, and pointed, to which his Paladin nodded and led the way over.

Two men were running the open-air bar, one a wiry boy looking to be in his early twenties at the oldest, and the other a portly, older gentleman. Their snappy conversation ceased when they caught sight of the soldiers approaching, and the older of the duo pulled some liquor up from under the counter. He gave the younger a kick, to which the younger pulled a gun off his hip to place on the bar. 

Henry bit his lip, but Danse didn't falter. 

"Can I get you fine fellas somethin'?" the older asked. Henry came over to sit down while Danse leaned up against the counter, not having bothered with getting out of his armor. Henry pulled his canteen out of his pack. 

"If you guys have any water that won't melt my insides, could you fill this up for me, please?" The old bartender shrugged, nodded, and handed the canteen off to his companion to fill up at the pump. While the younger man was fiddling around just behind the shack, Henry tapped his fingers on the bar before he cleared his throat and put his hand out. "Ah, where are my manners! Name's Henry."

The bartender raised a brow, and he didn't take Henry's outstretched hand. 

"Joe Savoldi, and the boy out back there is my son, Tony." Henry didn't let his smile fall, and he gave Tony a wholehearted 'thank you' when he returned with his water. "Anything else you need, scavver? Anything to _lighten_ _the_ _mood_?" Before Henry could say anything more, Danse cut in. 

"Alcohol is not an option for us at the moment, civilian." Joe snorted a little. 

"Alright. Then why're you two _loitering_ in my bar if you're not drinkin'?" Henry could almost hear Danse's brow knit.

"We're looking for an organization called _The Railroad_ , and we've been told they've taken refuge somewhere in northern Boston. Would you know anything about their location? Anything at all?" Joe shook his head. 

"I wouldn't." Then, he pointed to Tony, who was situated back at his spot behind the bar. "But blockhead here might, if you're really curious." Tony kicked his father in the side of the leg in lieu of a reply. 

" _I'm_ not sure, but we've had a synth or two wander in here lookin' for 'em," he said. "No one knows where they're holed up, but…" He paused for a moment to think. "They have an old phrase going, _"Follow the Freedom Trail"_ or something like that, but you probably already figured that out, if you're here." 

"Does anyone here know any agents?"

"No…" He clenched his jaw, still thinking. Then the figurative light bulb went off. "If it helps, I heard from one of the caravan guards that he saw a synth milling around by the Old North Church, a few miles south over the bridge. Everyone knows the Institute's after them for helping their synths escape, so if you're lookin' for the Railroad, that might be your best bet on findin' 'em." Henry folded his arms to lean on the countertop more. 

"That right?" He looked over at Danse. "What do you think?" Danse righted himself. 

"That would depend. How far is it from here?" Henry scratched an itch on his jaw. 

"Probably… twenty or thirty blocks, if I'm thinking of the right place. I know its within eyeshot of the water." Joe reached into his jacket pocket to pull out a box of cigarettes. 

"Why're you two lookin' for the Railroad, anyway? That's dangerous business, there," he mumbled. He fumbled with a book of matches to light up. 

"Our reasons are our own," Danse stated. "If that's all the help you can offer us, we'll be on our way, then." Joe scoffed. 

_"Not even gonna buy nothin'_ ," he grumbled. "Aight, then." Tony waved them goodbye as they strode away, back towards the gate. None of the guards in Bunker Hill were of any help, so it wasn't long before they set back out onto the road. 

By the time they crossed Washington Street, Henry's legs were cramping up, and his bad shoulder was starting to ache from hauling his duffle bag for so long. It seemed his boot camp fitness had worn off in the short time since he'd been discharged. Well, it felt like a short time, anyway. Henry knew it really wasn't. The uneasy feeling that had been hanging in the back of his mind since his departure from Sanctuary began gnawing at him, but he didn't let it distract him much. 

"Do you recall what street the church was on?" Henry jolted a little when Danse suddenly broke the silence. He cleared his throat and jogged a little to catch up with him. His legs hated him for it. 

"I think it was…" Henry took a moment to remember. "Salem Street, I'm pretty sure. Nora's parents took us there for her birthday once. I remember it being kind of out of the way, easy to miss, so we're both gonna have to keep an eye out." Danse hummed. 

"Affirmative."

They continued along the waterline, pacing on Commercial Street. They passed Langone Park a while after they crossed the bridge. Henry really had to force himself not to look at it. They turned onto Charter Street. It felt so strange to not follow the "one-way" sign." The alley, in spite of the noon sunlight, was quite dark, and the whole area stank of polluted river water and sewage. 

Salem Street didn't take long to come up, and when they made the right, Old North's steeple came into plain view. They stopped in front of the church's little garden, now wilted and dead. Next to the front door was a crudely-painted silhouette of a lantern, white in color. 

There was the lantern at journey's end.

"Alrighty. How do you wanna do this?" Henry asked lowly. Danse took a moment to study the brick church, dark eyes flicking about the structure in silence before he replied. 

"I would hate to go in through the front door, but it seems to be our only option. Just stay behind me." Henry nodded with a hum, and he followed after his Paladin into the church. The front door's hinges, rusted to hell and back, squealed with near-deafening volume. 

Danse swore a little under his breath at that, but his pace didn't hitch, and he led the way into the sermon hall. The ceiling was about to collapse, rotten and gaping between the boards. Many of the pews were either broken or overturned, and the lectern at the front was completely gone. The whole church was silent, save for the groaning of the settling foundation as it fought to keep the building standing. Henry had no idea as to how Danse hadn't fallen through the floor. 

"Doesn't look like anyone's home, Danny…" Henry murmured. 

"That's a hasty assessment," Danse snapped. "If this organization has remained hidden from the Institute thus far, then they are not going to be easy for us to find, either." Henry coughed, deflated.

"Gotcha."

They split off at the middle of the hall to look around; Henry lingered by the front door while Danse poked around by the priest's lectern. There wasn't much more than rubble and broken pews to look through. Henry just sifted around in the silt and smashed wood with the toe of his boot. With how the church looked, it wasn't very likely there was anything living here. He meandered over to the rightmost corner from the main door after a while of finding nothing but ruin. There was a pile of broken wooden beams stacked to a few feet above Henry's head, and while it was dense, there was a small gap through which he could see. There was a light beyond the wreckage, and the floor there seemed clear. 

Henry righted himself and turned his head to call over his shoulder, "Danny, I think I found something!" Danse perked up from behind the pews, and he came plodding over the rubble to see. Henry pointed to the gap. "Think you can move this?" 

Danse folded his arms and had a quick gander before he inclined to pick up one of the snapped beams. He shoved it into the gap, and when it was secure, he pressed all his weight down onto the lever, then pointed to the expanding entryway. 

"Clear what you can from there," he wheezed. Even in his armor, his gesture was visibly shaking. Henry dropped his bag, scurried over, and started hauling away chunks of wood. Danse went to let up on the lever he had tossed together when enough room was made, but when his weight released, the expanded gap started to collapse. He pressed himself back down with a grunt. "Find something to weigh this down." Henry bit his knuckle and quickly scanned the room for something heavy enough that he could lift. He ended up settling for one of the intact pews, which he heaved up as best he could and started to pull it over. He hauled it up to the lever and had Danse help him situate it until it was stable. When they were sure the beam wasn't going to come back up, Danse let it go and heaved out a deep breath. 

"You okay, you big tin can?" Henry teased, though he was out of breath and red-faced himself. Danse's expression hardened almost immediately and he straightened himself. 

Henry was able to finagle his way in fairly easily, but Danse, on the other hand, had almost brought the whole thing down on top of himself by the time he'd made it through. From the other side of the rubble was a descending stairway, into the catacombs, if Henry recalled correctly. He would have said the smell was indicative of that, but the whole state smelled like rot, so he honestly couldn't tell anymore. 

At the bottom, a handful of fallen Ghouls were scattered down the hall, but they seemed to have been there for some time. There was no light other than at the top of the stairs, and Danse didn't have his helm, so Henry switched his Pip-Boy on to shine down the shaft. The shaft was soon to come to an end, with the only object of note being a bronze Freedom Trail crest on the wall. 

Henry huffed. 

"Lovely… more mental gymnastics." He looked to his Paladin. "Any ideas?" Danse didn't have a response. Henry pursed his lips. "Alright, then…" He had a look at the crest again. A thin, red wire was leading out of the rim and into a drilled hole into the wall. He touched his palm against the center of the crest when he leaned to have closer look, only to startle when it gave with a deep click under the pressure of his palm. "What the-" He pressed it again, and it gave and clicked. He hummed, intrigued. 

"Interesting," Danse mused. "What else does it do, Knight?" Henry ran his hands over it more, and didn't take long to find that the outer rim of the crest, lined with the words "The Boston Freedom Trail," spun. He shrugged. 

"Okay… Now what in the holy hexadecimal is _that_ for?" He spun the crest haphazardly until it landed on the letter "r" in "Freedom," then pressed the center of the crest. The click, once deep, was now much higher in pitch. His brows raised. "Oh, so a combination? Pretty slick." He started spinning the rim and clicking on each individual letter. Some letters earned him a high-pitched click, while others earned him the deep-pitched. He soon had it narrowed down to "R," "L," "O," "D," "A," and "I" as the ones that brought on the "correct" signal. He thought for a moment. 

"Anything?" Danse elected. The answer suddenly came to Henry, and he started turning the dial and clicking the crest until his choices spelled out "Railroad." The brick wall to the eft suddenly groaned, the mortar turned to silt, and a segment of the wall drifted back and to the side, out of sight. "Outstanding. You should have become a Scribe, instead." Henry grinned, then leaned to the left to have a look. The space beyond was pitch black, so Henry shone his light in. Nothing he could see was there, so he stepped in, Danse just behind him. 

There was a sound, boots scraping on silt. The next thing Henry knew, he was facefirst on the ground, his ears were ringing, and the room was suddenly alight. Danse was yelling, as were some others whose voices Henry didn't recognize. A T-60 boot stomped down right in front of his face, and another nudged up against his upper back. There was the orange of a Paladin's paint around the ankle, and he could smell the fusion round that had just gone off. He turned his head and gazed over at the trio surrounding him and Danse. 

There were two women, one a ginger and the other an older African-American with a _minigun_ , and a man in a newsboy cap with a pipe-pistol. Each one had their guns drawn and aimed at Danse, who had his rifle out and ready to fire. Henry groaned, and he spotted _Righteous Authority_ a few feet away from him, just out of reach. Beyond that, he could see a door on the far end of the room. 

He just then realized the stinging in his forehead, and he reached a hand up to tenderly touch his fingers to his temple. When he pulled it away to look, his fingertips were dripping with blood. His extremities and face went cold, and he dropped his head back down into the dirt with a whine. 

"Who the hell are you?" the ginger hissed. 

"I would ask the same of you!" Danse reposted. The man cut in before the ginger could reply. 

"Answer the question!" 

"We're with the Brotherhood of Steel." Danse's voice was firm, but even in hypovolemic haze, Henry could sense the cornered twinge in his Paladin's tone. "We're not your enemy." The ginger frowned. 

"If that's true, you'll have nothing to fear. Now, how did you find us? Who told you how to contact us?" 

"Our sources are irrelevant-" The safety of the ginger's gun clicked. Henry wheezed. 

"Doctor Amari!" he yelped. "Doctor Amari, in Goodneighbor. She told us the Railroad could help us." The ginger glanced at him before she lowered her gun, but she didn't holster it. The two other agents did the same.

"Hmm. Why are you here? What do you need from us?" she continued. Danse shifted his weight from overtop his Knight, still in front of him, and he tore the plastic bag off of Henry's belt to uphold the Courser's severed head. The agents grimaced.

"We need a Courser chip decoded. Amari informed us you were the only ones outside of the Institute who are able to get past the encryptions." The agents all exchanged glances, only for everyone to startle when a fourth agent came sauntering out of the door behind them. 

"Woah, I didn't know we were having a party!" he exclaimed. He leaned onto the ginger's shoulder, as if she hadn't just attempted to shoot two strangers, and grinned. "What gives with my invitation, Des?" Then, he raised his sunglasses to have a gander at Henry, and his lips quirked up. "Oh, I see you invited the Courser-killer. Nice." The woman pushed him off. 

"You're saying this _intruder_ actually killed a Courser, Deacon?" Deacon nodded like a child and flicked his aviators back down. 

"Uh, news flash, boss, this guy is _kind of_ a big deal. If you guys are done pistol whipping him and interrogating his tank for a friend here, you might wanna show this Courser-murdering machine a little courtesy," he sneered. "Just a thought." Des's expression changed, as if at the throwing of a switch, she looked at her two agents. 

"Disengage," she barked, then looked back at the soldiers when they lowered their guns. "I owe you both an apology. Anyone who kills a Courser is good in my book." Henry sighed into the ground. 

"Hopefully," Danse uttered through grit teeth, "we can come to an agreement, then." Deacon nodded, and he gave Des a nudge. 

"Des… you know what we have to do, now." Des stared at him. 

"That's against our security protocols!" Deacon scoffed. 

"To hell with that, this guy killed a Courser!" Des's eyes narrowed. Deacon then pointed to Henry's pistol. "And I think we'd both know Conrad's .44 cal anywhere. There's no way he's with the Institute!" The room was silent for a moment. Then she sighed.

"Alright, listen. We're letting you two into our headquarters. We'll discuss the details about this chip of yours inside." The two agents at Des's side stepped back. The woman with the minigun set her weapon down and dusted her hands off. She and Drummer Boy, the one who smacked Henry with his gun, circled around by the entrance to bring up the back of the group. 

Danse eyed them warily, then stooped down to scrape Henry up off the floor. He pulled his Knight to his feet by his arm and stood there for a moment to let him get his bearings. 

"This is why we wear our armor and look _before_ we advance," he rumbled, tongue-in-cheek. Drummer Boy snickered behind them.

"Oh, sweet cheese and crackers, Danse, not right now," Henry carped. He pressed his hand to his temple to stem the bleeding, then followed after Des and Deacon.


	16. God, Country, and Henry’s Paladin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Danse is a good Christian boy

"Would you hold still?" the medic snapped. "It's going to hurt a lot more if I hit bone." Henry uttered an apology under his breath and went rigid so Carrington could finish stitching up the wound in his temple. "Drummer Boy" had left a doozy of a wound on Henry's forehead and it took forever to get the bleeding to stop. His right eye, teary and red, was already swelling shut. Drummer Boy had since apologized on behalf of their security protocols, so Henry wasn't too keen to hold a grudge. Still, it hurt like hell, and the musty stench of Old North's catacombs wasn't the best distraction from his nausea.

On the flip side, Danse had been trying to negotiate with Desdemona over the chip's data as his Knight was getting patched up by the Railroad's medic. 

"I can assure you the Brotherhood will offer you a handsome payment in exchange for the code." Desdemona folded her arms and shook her head. 

"From what you described, you don't need the chip itself, just its code. So why is it such an issue if we get it in exchange?" Danse rubbed his forehead.

"Is there  _ anything _ that's equal in value that we can give you instead?" he pressed.  _ "Anything at all?"  _ Desdemona stood firm. 

"Take it or leave it." Henry winced when Carrington suddenly snapped off the excess thread and pressed a butterfly bandage over the line to keep it sealed. Danse sighed deeply, and Henry heard him utter a swear. The Paladin held up the Courser's head, defeated. 

"I'm done wasting my time," he groused. "If your chosen form of payment is this important to you, then so be it, but if this chip is used against the Brotherhood in any way, know that we will show no mercy." Desdemona smirked. 

"Stanley," she called. Carrington perked up. "Could you extract the chip, please?" The medic grimaced a little, but he stood up from his chair and accepted the head Danse came over to offer him. 

Dissecting the Courser's head was going to take some time, so Henry and Danse were allowed to lounge for a bit and rest from the long trip. Henry had since snuffled into their last MREs, and he offered one to Danse, which he received with an uttered 'thank you.' While the food was warming up in their water sleeves, Henry fidgeted, uncomfortable. He was hurting all over from the trek, and his wound was throbbing. He hated needles, but he really missed the local anesthetics now. There was only so much two-hundred-year old lidocaine could do.

Carrington's surgical saw started buzzing as he prepared to cut the Courser's head open, but the two soldiers were generously placed in the back room so they didn't have to watch while they ate. Well, Henry didn't. Danse insisted on spectating from a distance to ensure they weren't cheated. 

"Are you alright?" he asked softly. Henry gave him a thumbs-up. Danse's eyes hardened as he eyed the fresh line of stitches in Henry's forehead. "I'm serious. Head injuries are no laughing matter." Henry snorted. 

"What's that? Is that the human tin can  _ worrying _ about me?" 

Danse frowned. "No, I-" He caught himself, and he puffed. "Nevermind. You're obviously fine." Henry laughed. 

"Don't worry. Carrington looked me over, said it wasn't anything serious." Danse hummed.

"Regardless, when we return to base, I want you to see Captain Cade for a follow-up. A concussion might not always show symptoms immediately." Henry nodded, and he reached for his ration, for it had finished warming up.

MRE Brahmin stew wasn't the most palatable thing Henry had ever eaten, but it beat the Prydwen's eggs any day. At least it tasted as good as it smelled. Of course, as to how his Paladin could watch Carrington split open a rotting head whilst he spooned that slop into his mouth, Henry had no clue. 

Henry reached for his duffle bag to pull out the Book o' Puns out, but he didn't even have it open before Danse objected.

"Spare me, please." Henry snorted and flicked it open. 

_ " _ You know, Danny,  _ it takes guts to be an organ donor _ ." Danse rolled his eyes, and he polished off the last of his meal before he set aside.  _ "Fun fact about the cemetery near where I grew up; it was the dead center of town!"  _

"Your sense of humor is deplorable, Knight." 

_ "Don't trust atoms… they make up everything!"  _ Danse shook his head.

"Ridiculous."

"Oh, come on, you know you love 'em." 

"Do not mistake my tolerance for fondness. If given the option, I would sell you to traffickers for a pack of cigarettes." Henry started howling, and though the Paladin's tone suggested irritation, Danse couldn't hide the ghost of a smile that tugged at his lips. Henry sniffed.

"Oh, and you say  _ my  _ sense of humor is deplorable!"

"I do not recall saying that I was joking." 

"You're awful." 

"I feel as if we have already had this conversation." Henry snickered. Danse suddenly stiffened and rose to attention, so Henry leaned to follow his eyes. Carrington was at his desk, just on the other side of the catacomb's main hall, looming over the split-open head of the Courser. In his hand was a pair of tweezers that delicately gripped a small piece of metal and plastic. He had a close look at it, then called for Desdemona.

Danse rose from his spot on the floor and ducked under the arches of the low-hanging ceiling to stride over to the medic, Henry just on his heels. Another man in overalls came striding over, as well, to have a look.

"So…" he started. "Is that it?" Carrington sent him a glare as he began to gingerly caress the chip with a cloth, swiping off the blood and grey matter. 

"Yes, it is." He then raised his eyes to the newcomer in overalls. "Tom, do what you need to do." "Tom" grinned and delicately took the chip from him to examine. He whistled. 

"Haven't seen one'a these little beauties in a while!" He brought it over to a computer that stood furthest from the entrance to the catacombs. There was a little port near the keyboard that he plugged the chip into, then grabbed a holotape from his pocket that he loaded into the terminal. "Alright, little Courser chip, let's have the circuit analyzer take a crack at you..." Henry tilted his head to look past Danse's armored shoulder. Tom started mumbling to himself as he typed. "Okay, okay…"

Henry and Danse looked at each other. Tom clicked his tongue. 

"Alright, we're in! Just poke at the analog connectors a little…" He then breathed through his teeth sharply. "Oh, man, oh, man, don't crash! Hold it together, baby!" He started typing even faster. "C'mon, baby, show me that pattern. What is it?" A mumble. "Okay, here it comes… Encryption algorithms… Okay, we're still runnin'." He groaned. "They've added more decimals to the last…" Henry took a gander a Desdemona to see her smirking. He went to say something, only to snap his mouth shut when Tom spoke up again. "Wait! They're using the same logarithmic function as the key generator! Man, we got lucky." He cackled. "I got you, you Institute bastard. I got you!" He hummed for a good moment. 

"Solve for N… Come on, show me that sweet base number-" A pause. A squint. He threw his hands up and whooted. "We got it! We got the code!" He leaned back down to the terminal, popped out the holotape, then grabbed another, unlabeled one to insert into the port. "Lemme load that onto a holotape for ya." Henry let out a deep breath that he didn't know he was holding, and he received the tape from Tom once it finished downloading everything. Desdemona turned her gaze to them. 

"Well, then, that settles it. You have your code, we have the chip." Danse nodded. 

"I thank you on the Brotherhood's behalf." Desdemona smiled, then drifted around them to lead them to the entrance. 

Henry was glad to be out of the catacombs, as he never did like tight spaces, but he wasn't looking forward much to the long trip back to Boston Airport. Danse led the way back to Commercial Street, but he didn't turn right to go southeast like Henry thought he would. Rather, he veered left and strode toward Langone Park. 

"Hey, Pretty-Boy?" Danse hummed. Henry pointed down the street. "Boston Airport's that way, bud." 

"I know."

"So… why are we headed in the opposite direction?" Danse fumbled with the storage compartment of his armor to pull out a flare gun.

"We're not marching forty miles with the most valuable component to our mission haphazardly tucked in your pocket. It's just senseless," he said. "I'm going to call in a vertibird to the baseball field we passed earlier so we can get the code to the Proctors as soon as possible." He then glanced back to state dryly, "That is, unless you would  _ prefer _ to walk all that way." Henry shrugged. 

"Hey, if that means less ground we have to cover on foot, I'll take it. Papa's out of shape."

"That's a problem you ought to fix, Knight." 

"Well, considering I'm built like a seagull and not likely to get big and beefy like you, I don't see too much of a point in that." Danse scoffed under his breath.

"There's no arguing with a clown, is there?" 

They were stopped in Langone Park before long. Danse issued a warning to Henry before he loaded his flare gun, raised it up, covered an ear with his free hand, and fired. When it burst in the air and left a trail of blue smoke, Danse huffed, satisfied, and stowed the gun away. A thought suddenly occurred to Henry.

"Danse… How long have you had those flares?" he questioned, his tone nearly threatening. Danse sighed. 

"Usage of vertibird flares is under a series of strict protocols, and Paladins are only given a small amount of them to work with, so do not berate me over not using them earlier." Henry snorted, and he plopped himself down in the dead grass to rest his legs. 

"Fair enough." He stretched and yawned. "How long does it take?" 

"The smoke emits an electromagnetic signal, so the Lancers' computers pick it up almost immediately. Depending on the pilot and the situation, dispatch doesn't normally take much longer than a few minutes." Henry bobbed his head. 

"Nifty." 

Danse didn't lie; the dull humming of a vertibird came echoing across the water within the hour. The craft touched down in the clearing. Henry nearly lost his hat from the force of the vertibird's blades, and had to plaster it under his hand to keep it from flying off his head. The pilot wasn't the drunk, nor was she especially talkative, for which Henry was exceedingly thankful, for he leaned against the ajar side door in case his motion sickness were to come back to him. 

Compared to the incredible, several day-long trek across Boston, the ride back to the Prydwen was unbelievably short. When the vertibird was locked onto the frame and they were green to board the airship, Henry was ready to kiss the platform beneath his feet. Before they headed into the command deck, Danse took the holotape from Henry. 

"I'll deliver my report to the Elder," he murmured. "As I said before, you still need to see Cade for your head-wound." Henry smiled, and they strode through threshold, bypassing the Knights on guard duty.

"Sir, I'm fine," he said. He'd been in the Brotherhood for weeks, yet it _still_ didn't feel right to call him _"sir,"_ but he knew well if Kells or Maxson heard him speak informally, he was ripe for getting written up. Danse puffed, and he stopped at the ladder that led up into the hull where they would go their separate ways.

"Knight, my orders are non-negotiable," he retorted. His voice, though quiet to avoid rousing attention, treaded on the blurred border between stern and sharp, at which Henry flinched."I said to go see the Captain and have your wound seen to.  _ Dismissed _ ." Henry uttered a "yessir," and he cleared out of his Paladin's way to start up the ladder. 

The sick-bay was empty when Henry showed up, and he waved to Cade, who was filling out reports at his desk. The doctor stood up from his rolling chair. 

"Knight." 

Henry dipped his head. "Captain." 

"Good to see you're back safely from your assignment. What do you need?" Henry lifted his cap to show the line of stitches in his forehead. 

"I got pistol-whipped pretty good in the face, Paladin said I need to get checked out." Amusement tugged at Cade's mouth, and he waved Henry over to a chair so he could have a look. 

"Well, Knight…" he started as he peeled back Henry's blonde hair to have a look. "It seems you've already been seen to!" Henry cleared his throat. 

"I know, but Danse said I could have a concussion or something, didn't wanna take chances." Cade nodded. 

"A reasonable cause for concern. How long ago were you attacked?"

"A few hours ago, sir." Cade hummed. 

"Have you had any headaches, dizziness, or nausea since the incident?" Henry shook his head. 

"No." A pause. "I mean, right when it happened, but I also bled like a stuck pig because, you know,  _ head wounds _ , but not now, no." Cade chuckled. 

"Very well. Any flashing or blurriness in your vision?" Henry shook his head. "Do you recall what day it is today?" He nodded. 

"November 14th, 2287." Cade nodded. 

"Good." He looked a little more closely. "Well, it seems your only issue is a slightly swollen eye, but a cold compress should certainly do for that." He then groped at his desk for his clipboard and scrawled down some notes on the paper before he ripped it out and handed it to Henry. "I'm excusing you from guard duty this evening. Use this if anyone questions you. Come back to me at chowtime for a follow-up, or earlier if anything changes. Should you need it, the mess-officer has an abundance of ice in the food stowage." Henry smiled.

"Thanks, Captain."

Henry didn't worry much about the ice. Given his childhood as a delinquent growing up in Lexington, a black eye and some stitches were the least of his concerns, even though he hated needles. After all, he was in and out of Milton General every month for some stupid injury or another. He didn't even want to get started about his time in Anchorage. 

Since he didn't have guard duty that night and his armor had gone untouched since his return from the Glowing Sea, Henry was allowed to basically do whatever he wanted, so long as he didn't leave the Prydwen. Of course, given it was a military base, there wasn't much to do in that realm, and he didn't feel like going to lay down until chowtime, so he wandered. 

The Prydwen's hull was layered, like a sea-faring vessel, and though he'd been stationed there since late October, Henry hadn't had the chance to properly explore all of the floors. The lowest level had a number of lounging soldiers drinking in their down-time before supper, and Henry didn't much bother with picking his way through them. As his friends growing up used to say, "snitches get stitches," after all. 

Obviously, the next layer up, he was quite familiar with, as he was there several times a day for assignments, weapon maintenance, and meals. The uppermost layer had the rows and rows of bunks and officer's private quarters, but he had not been keen to look around up there until he had nothing to do.

He had stopped to fiddle with his Pip-Boy, which had frozen for a moment, as he was pacing the rows when he heard a little voice call out amongst the barracks. 

_ "Good evening, Paladin!"  _ One of the Squires. The Brotherhood's child soldiers had turned out to be stationed on the Prydwen, but were usually busy studying, so he hadn't really noticed them until recently. Henry perked up for a moment, as the sound in the otherwise wordless vessel had startled him, but he went back to his Pip-Boy. What made him startle again was Danse's voice responding to the Squire's call, and he dipped back behind a bunk to get out of the way.

_ "Squire."  _ Henry stood on his toes to peer over the bunks to see Danse's tall, armored form just a few rows down, out in the walkway. A Squire was standing in front of him, a firm salute over her chest that the Paladin evenly mirrored. Even at a distance, Henry could tell she was fighting every urge to grin, practically trembling in childish awe. Danse puffed a little breath and lowered his arm. "At ease, soldier." The girl dipped her head in a nod, and Danse went to stride down the walkway, to which Henry sucked his head back in so he wouldn't be seen, but they both paused when the Squire called him again. 

"Um, Paladin?" He pivoted with a hum. The girl took a moment. "Could you, um, please do that thing you always do with me and the other Squires, sir? Please?" Henry frowned, wary. Danse scratched the back of his neck.

"Not right now," he murmured. "Maybe some other time." The Squire's expression fell a little. 

"Understood, sir." A moment passed. Danse let out a sharp sigh, and he briefly looked up and down the walkway before he spoke again. 

"Alright." The Squire looked up. Danse went down onto one knee. "Do it quickly, Squire. I still have my rounds to do." The girl beamed and came bounding over to him. She looped around his back, grabbed onto the spaulders of his armor frame, and hauled her little self up. Danse stood upright when she was settled squarely on his shoulders, her arms folded in his hair to stay upright. Henry had to stifle a little snort as he watched Danse pace around with the Squire on his back.

_ Where the hell is a camera when I need one? _

It didn't last much longer than a minute before Danse knelt down again for the Squire to get off of him. Once they had both righted themselves, the Squire grinned and saluted him again. 

"Thank you, sir!" Danse returned the salute, then started back down the walkway. Henry sucked back, bright red and still holding in his laughter as his Paladin passed him by, blissfully unaware of his Knight. As soon as the sound of compressing hydraulics faded, Henry finally straightened himself up and looked up and down the barracks to make sure the coast was clear, then jogged out so he wouldn't be seen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Henry will harass Danse about his later because he’s a big ole softy
> 
> Got it from a Tumblr headcanon that Danse plays with the Squires and I had to pop it in somewhere. It’s useless filler BUT ITS MY FIC SO SCREW YOU


	17. Red Star Falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yayyyyy I’m actually posting again and we finally got to the effing Institute. Took a lot longer than I thought to get here, feels like Survival mode
> 
> Just wait for the writer’s block to set in again bleh
> 
> Btw I didn’t proofread it really, so if there’s a typo or something, I’m sorry, I’m living off of cherry cola right now and I think my kidneys hate me but that’s okay lol

_ "Attention!"  _ Henry startled awake at the sound of Kells' voice blasting over the intercom.  _ "All soldiers aboard the Prydwen, please be advised that we will have a live, free-roaming Super Mutant on base. Do not speak to, gawk at, or otherwise interact with it in anyway, unless given direct authorization from Proctor Ingram, Proctor Quinlan, or Elder Maxson. Please report to the mess hall for roll in ten minutes. Thank you." _ He blinked, rubbed the grogginess out of his eyes, and looked over to the side when he heard boots squeaking on the floor. 

Danse was already up and dressed, leaned over the dresser by the door as he scrawled down some notes that Henry couldn't read. He perked up when Henry yawned, then uttered a greeting and went back to writing. After Henry shaved and pulled his uniform on, they headed down to the mess hall for roll. 

He ended up on his own for breakfast. Right after attendance had been taken, Danse stalked into Cade's bay, leaving Henry to eat those  _ déclassé  _ eggs by himself. He didn't say why, but Henry was keen to notice the bruises under his Paladin's eyes. He knew he didn't sleep much, as when Henry went to bed, he was usually going through his modding materials or oiling his guns or doing rounds about the Prydwen, even though he didn't have guard duty. Hell, back in C.I.T., Danse took watch both nights they were there and let Henry sleep almost straight through. Now that they had gotten back from the hunt, Henry finally took notice of how he tossed and turned and mumbled throughout the night. He had half of a mind to wake him up to ease him, but he didn't much like the idea of getting punched by a man who nearly doubled his weight in sheer muscle alone, so he just ignored it.

__ Henry was assigned for guard duty down in the airport where he learned from Ingram that Virgil had been brought back and that construction of the teleporter had begun. Only the base had been completed thus far, and the Knights and Field Scribes were scouring both the ruins of the airport itself and the surrounding collapsed buildings for metal, circuits, and cloth. From what he heard from the Scribes as they passed his post, the structure was apparently going to be massive and require a considerable power source that they were dreading rigging up.

Anxiety stirred in him as the operation grew closer, and there were too many reasons why to begin naming. Shaun was a grown boy now, from what he saw in Kellogg's memories, and because Henry had the most personal experience with the Institute, he was the one to be thrown to the synthetic wolves. How the hell would he even explain something like that to a ten year old? Even then, how would he manage to get him out of there, or even see him at all, if Institute security was as tight inside as outside. He tried to take a deep breath, but his armor frame didn't allow him much breathing room, both literally and figuratively. He puffed. He had no idea how Danse could stand living like a sardine all the time. Guard duty was one thing, a required one that no one liked to do, but Danse had been promoted from Knight to Paladin years ago. Firewatch was a thing of the past for him. 

He sighed. He wanted to flip through his Pip-Boy, turn some music on, but he knew he'd be written up for that. He bit his cheek. He missed his doo-wop and his dog… and by golly, did he miss Nora. He hated sleeping alone. The nightmares were mild at worst, but he missed having a warm body to cuddle up to at night. The fact that the barracks were right under the hydrogen tanks keeping the Prydwen afloat didn't help. When he voiced his concern to his Paladin, Danse simply said,  _ "You eventually do get used to sleeping under highly explosive tanks of hydrogen gas."  _ Henry figured the bright side of a potential explosion would be an instant death, but  _ still _ . He hoped he was joking, but, at this point, he never could tell whether Danse was kidding or not.

He stood watch for a good few hours before he switched out with another Knight. It was about nine o'clock in the morning by the time he was placed with a supply team to find more scrap for the device. Ingram's Scribes worked tirelessly from sunrise till sunset, like a horde of rats scurrying to build a nest before the frost hit. By the time Henry was hauled back up to the Prydwen for chowtime, a frame had been built up from Virgil's schematics.

Danse seemed fine enough at dinner, and he didn't say anything when Henry asked him about why he had to see Cade. Henry didn't want to dig, so he just left it. 

Three more days of construction and long shifts of standing watch went by. 

On the third evening, Maxson called Henry to the command deck. He was looking out at the snowy shoreline when Henry came in. "You called me, Elder?" Maxson hummed, and he turned on his heel, his shoulders pressed back like a peacock. 

"Affirmative. We need to discuss your assignment," he responded. "Proctor Ingram sent up a report some minutes ago regarding the Relay; construction has been finished, and they are actively searching for a signal to send you into the Institute's facility." He then waved for Henry to come close to the window, and he pointed down into the airport below. The Relay's frame was gleaming, even through the grime of the glass. "After I conclude this meeting, you are to gather up the materials you need before you head down to the airport for further instruction."

"Understood, Elder." Maxson hummed again, and he sent Henry a knowing look.

"I'm aware, and so are you, I'm sure, that this operation will possibly be the most dangerous you will ever be involved in. I understand if you're hesitant." Uncertainty churned Henry's guts for a while as he thought of a response, but when again thought of Shaun and Nora, his eyes hardened.

"It'll be worth it, sir." Maxson smiled a little, and that scar on his face wrinkled as his lips curled to bear his teeth.

"That's what I like to hear, Knight." He cleared his throat. "Now, as for specifics…" Henry listened intently as Maxson described the admittedly vague procedure. "After this meeting, you'll see Proctor Quinlan for all the materials you will need, including a holotape. When you enter the facility, you will insert said holotape into whatever viable port you can find and download everything you can." Maxson then reached into his coat to pull out a piece of paper, which he handed to Henry. On the paper was a grainy photograph of a woman. Henry frowned. "During your mission, I need you to locate a Doctor Madison Li and bring her back here. She worked with the Brotherhood some time ago in the Capital Wasteland, however, we believe she has since been contacted and inducted into the Institute. If this holds true, her knowledge would be invaluable to us." He cocked his head. 

"Understood, sir, but how do you want me retrieve her?"

"By any possible means that do not involve violence or raising the alert. If circumstances do not allow for this, then do not risk it. Our main priority is to glean as much information as possible, but I don't want you needlessly throwing your life away, either." He smoothed his hair back. "Now, do you have any questions, Knight?" Henry thought for a moment, and he gazed back down at the Relay frame before a thought came to him. 

"Why wasn't Paladin Danse included in this meeting, sir?" Maxson frowned, then nodded. 

"Your Paladin won't be involved in the infiltration. According to Virgil and Proctor Ingram, because we only have a single code, and the emitter's construction was rushed, the Relay can only be used once to teleport a single person. Your mission will be have to be done alone." Henry's throat tightened.

"U-understood, sir. No more questions from me." Maxson nodded. 

"Then you are dismissed, Knight."

Suppertime came and went. Henry wasn't very hungry, too nervous, so he made a bee-line for Quinlan for the aforementioned tape. After he was given that and a weird mumble from the Proctor, he headed back to his quarters to fetch his weapons. Danse was scrawling letters down one-by-one in that crossword booklet, freshly showered and shaved. His radio was playing Johnny Cash softly on the dresser. He looked up when the door squealed open, and he set his book down. 

"Kni-" He caught himself. " _ Henry."  _ Henry's own name didn't sound right anymore, especially from his stone-faced Paladin. Too informal. 

"Hey." Henry padded over to the bunk to pull  _ Righteous Authority _ off the post, then went rummaging through his duffle bag for some rounds. Danse snorted a little. 

"Doing some hunting?" Henry shook his head with a hum. 

"Nope. Relay's ready. I'm headed down now, just had to grab my gun." When he turned back after stuffing his satchel full of fusion cells, he caught a glimpse of Danse's complexion; pale, for that tanned skin, anyway, brow knitted tightly. Of course, it could have just been an effect of the overhead light that everyone in the history of electricity hated. Either way, it only lasted for a moment before he stood up and took an audibly deep breath. 

"Are you going to be ready for this?" he asked. His voice was a little throaty. Henry shrugged, and an uneasy smile tugged at his mouth. 

"I don't think I have much of a choice. You know what they say,  _ Outta the frying pan and into the fire! _ " Danse's fingers flexed. 

"True, but…" His face hardened, and he looked Henry dead-on. His eyes were cold. Henry hated how he looked when he went into "lecture-mode." "Don't be so casual about it. From what I've been told, an innumerable amount of things can go wrong during the insertion alone-" Henry gripped his shoulder and gave him a little push.

"Good grief, Danse, I didn't take you for that much of a worry-wart. I'm not a rookie, I'll be okay." Danse stared at his hand, then at him. 

"There really is no arguing with you, is there?" Henry grinned, and he withdrew his hand. 

"Like talking to a brick wall." Danse sighed.

"Just remember what I taught you, and you'll do just fine." A pause. He coughed a little, and he stepped back. "Well, I won't delay you," he uttered quickly. Henry strapped  _ Righteous Authority  _ to his back, and he strode to the door before he stopped. 

"Well, see you on the flipside!" Danse smiled a little, but his eyes didn't share that same easiness. He didn't come down with him.

That Relay was a heck of a sight to see. Its metal spires loomed over everyone, even Virgil, who towered over even the tallest of the armored Knights as he examined the reflector. A number of generators brought down from the Prydwen surrounded it, all churning loudly as they strained to keep the machine powered. Ingram stood to the side with a jury-rigged control panel before her, and Maxson stood silently next to her. The Proctor looked up at the Knight, and she pointed to the base of the Relay. 

"Alright, Knight, you're gonna head up there, and Virgil's gonna tell ya what you need to do, okay?" Henry uttered an acknowledgement, and he went jogging up to the platform. The Relay's frame shuddered and sparked, and the generators roared so loudly, he could barely hear Virgil talking to him. 

"This is important," the Mutant shouted. " _Don't_ _move_ _a_ _muscle_ once Ingram secures that signal. If you do, part of you won't be re-materialized during the Relay, and you'll die instantly. Do you understand?" Henry's skin crawled, but he nodded. "Now, when you get in there, you're gonna end up in the Relay room. Right in front of you is a computer terminal. That's where you can put that holotape in, and download everything you can."

"Computer in front of the Relay room. Got it."

"And remember our deal; I need you to get that serum,  _ badly _ ." He gave him a thumbs-up.

"I'll try my best, Virgil." Virgil bobbed his head with a smirk, and once Henry was situated on the base of the Relay, the doctor withdrew. Ingram started typing on the console, mumbling. She jerked in her frame a little. 

"Alright, Knight, I've got the signal…" A pause. The Relay started to roar. It took everything in Henry not to tremble like a leaf. "Relaying in 3… 2… 1…" Henry clenched his fists. His vision went white. 

He slammed into the ground, on his knees, with a gasp. Every hair on his body stood on end, his skin pricked with gooseflesh. He took a minute to breathe, then righted himself a little to look himself over. He wasn't missing any limbs, so that was a good sign. He huffed, and he went to stand, only for his legs to wobble like that of a baby deer. He managed to stay standing, but only just barely, and he took a step. 

The room he was in was circular and small, and just ahead was a more open room with a number of panels and computer screens lining its walls. To his surprise, no one, not human nor synt was out there. Everything was so… clean. Like how Greentech looked before the war, with shiny linoleum floors and white walls. The lights in the ceiling were almost blindingly white, unlike the weird green of those on the Prydwen. After spending those weeks in the post-nuclear Commonwealth, such cleanliness didn't seem natural,  _ possible  _ anymore. Henry's boots left dark treadmarks on the floor.

He staggered out to have a look once he was sure the coast was clear and headed over to the frontmost computer that Virgil described. There was a port just below the screen, so he pulled the tape out of his pocket to pop into the computer. As he was going through the download options, an intercom overhead squeaked and made him jolt and look around. 

" _ Hello."  _ Henry held his breath, and he watched on the far end of the Relay room as the floor opened to give way for a glass tube that slid up into view; an elevator.  _ "I assure you, no harm will come to you here, Henry. All I want is to have a conversation with you. Please… step into the elevator." _ The terminal made a sound, and Henry looked over at it to see the tape had finished downloading, so he ejected it and stuffed it into his pocket. He then stared out at the elevator, wary.

The intercom came on again. 

_ "I understand your hesitance. I'd like to talk to you about what we can do... for everyone, but that can wait. You are here for a very specific, personal reason. You're here for your son."  _ A cavalcade of mixed emotions gnawed at the back of his mind, and in spite of his own common sense, he couldn't resist and he stepped into the elevator cab.  _ "Thank you."  _ The elevator door shut on its own, and Henry pressed himself against the glass wall with his rifle drawn. He flipped the safety off.

The cab started to descend into the floor.

_ "I can only imagine what you've heard, what you think of us."  _ Henry looked up at the speaker and cocked his head.  _ " I'd like to show you that you may have... the wrong impression." _ He didn't say anything, and just stared. Suddenly, the tight walls of the shaft gave way to a massive chamber. Henry looked down and he swallowed the rising tickle in his throat.  _ "Welcome to the Cambridge Institute of Technology."  _ Below him was what looked like the fanciest hospital atrium he'd ever seen. All around the chamber were planted trees,  _ living, green trees, _ and little channels of water spewing from fountains. Like the Relay room, everything was white and lit so brilliantly, to focus on anything hurt his head. Synths, new and old models alike, patrolled around the elevator and headed in and out of the surrounding rooms like ants in a nest. 

_ "This is the reality of the Institute. This place, these people, the work we do. For over a hundred years, we've dedicated ourselves to humanity's survival. Decades of research, countless experiments and trials... A shared vision of how science can help shape the future."  _

The elevator dipped below the lower floor and continued descending. 

_ "It has never been easy, and our actions are often misinterpreted by those above ground. Someday, perhaps, we can show them what we've accomplished. But for now, we must remain underground."  _ The elevator at last stopped and opened up into a narrow, curving hallway. Henry stepped out, his senses finally regained, and he paced along to another elevator. He stepped in, the door closed, and it started to descend.

It was a shorter ride, this time, and when it stopped, Henry was met with a tiny room that he strode into, his gun up. In that room was a tall, glass case with a door to its side; empty, save for a single child sitting cross-legged in the middle, playing with a few toy trucks. He had a head of blonde hair and pale, freckled skin, and when the boy looked up, his eyes mirrored Henry's own of blue. Henry gawked at him. 

" _ Shaun _ ?" His voice was barely audible, a croaking wheeze, but the boy heard him, and he stood up from his toys. 

"Yeah… I'm Shaun." Henry immediately switched his safety back on and slung his rifle over his shoulder before he came running over to the case. "Who are you?" He smiled wide, and he pressed his hands up against the glass. 

"Shaun, it's… I'm your dad, I'm here to take you home." The boy shrunk back from the glass. 

"Father! What's going on?" Henry frowned. 

"Shaun, I'm right he-"

Shaun fell back further until he hit the far wall. "Father, there's someone in here! Help me!" Henry pressed a finger to his lips. 

"Shaun, be quiet!"

"I don't know you! Go away!" Shaun spat. Henry looked at the door. 

"Shaun, please, talk to me! Can you open the door? Just open the door…" Suddenly, voice called out from the other end of the room. Henry snapped his head to the side to look at the elderly man who had just walked in.

"S9-23, recall code:  _ Cirrus _ ." Shaun suddenly spasmed, his eyes wide, and he fell silent and limp on his feet. Henry's chest tightened.

_ "What?" _ He then glared back at the man. "What did you do to my boy?" The old man pursed his lips, and he shook his head. 

"My apologies. The child's responses were not at all what I anticipated." He came walking in, as if completely unaware of the gun trained on his head, and he stopped right in front of the intruder. "He's a prototype, you understand. We're only just now beginning to explore the effects of extreme emotional stimuli." Henry's breath caught up in his throat, and he looked at the boy again. 

" _ A synth?"  _ He huffed. The man held his hands up in front of him. 

"Please, try to keep an open mind. I recognize you are emotional, and that your journey here was difficult." He put a hand out, but Henry didn't take it. "Please, allow me to introduce myself; I am Father, the Institute's Director." Henry's lip curled. 

"I want my son. Right now. Where is he?" The old man sighed. 

"I know, I know. You've gone through incredible lengths to find him. I promised answers, and answers you shall have, but I need you to realize that this…  _ situation _ … is far more complicated than you could have imagined." He put his hands together. Henry stared at him, and his aim faltered. "You travelled far, and you have suffered a great deal to find your son." He then smiled a little. "It's good to finally meet you, after all this time." Henry's scowl darkened. He looked over at the synth, then recalled Kellogg's memories. 

"That's impossible…" He hooked his finger on the trigger and he righted his stance. "You're lying to me! Either you give me my son, or I take him from you!" Father raised his hands again, fingers trembling. 

"Why would I lie?" he reposted. "What would I have to gain from it? I assure you, this is the truth. I've shown you my trust. Your weapons haven't been confiscated, and I stand unarmed before you. I only want to speak with you." Henry stood firm. 

"Then you'd better start talking.  _ Fast."  _ Father took a deep breath. 

"In the Vault, you had no concept of the passage of time. You were released from your pod, and you went searching for the son you'd lost, but then you learned that your son was no longer an infant, but a ten year old boy. You believed that ten years had passed. Is it truly so hard to accept that it was not ten years, but sixty?" Henry's stomach flipped, reality crashing into him like a blow to the face, and he lowered  _ Righteous Authority  _ completely.

"That's… How the hell do you even know that?" Father's gaze dodged him. 

"How I know is… irrelevant. It is the truth, I can swear it. I have no reason to lie to you." Henry's lips pressed together tightly as he fought to think of a response. 

"But… What they did…" he stuttered. "Dammit, it wasn't right! They killed your mother, they took you from me!" Father nodded along.

"To you, it would certainly seem like senseless cruelty, but to the Institute, it made all the sense in the world." He looked up to think for a moment. "At that time, the year 2227, the Institute had made great strides in synth production, but it wasn't enough. The goal of perfection drove them ever onward. So, they followed the best example thus far - the human being, walking, talking, fully articulate, and capable of anything.

"The most logical starting point, of course, was human DNA. Plenty was available, but it had all become corrupted by radiation. Even in their attempts to shield themselves from the world above, members of the Institute had been exposed. Another source was needed." Henry puffed. 

"So  _ that's _ why they targeted the Vault..."

Father hummed. "An infant, frozen in time, protected from the radiation-induced mutations that had crept into every other human cell in the Commonwealth. I was exactly what they needed, and so it was my DNA that became the basis of the synthetic organics to create every human-like synth you see today. Through science, we are like family. The synths, me… and you." He cleared his throat. "Now, I am sure you must have questions, anything I can do to help you understand."

"What about Kellogg?" Henry asked. "If he worked for you people before you got here… the years don't add up, he'd have to have been nearly a hundred years old, and he was no Ghoul!" Father grimaced. 

"Yes, he was an asset long before my arrival here. It wasn't until I became the Director that I learned of all the things he'd done… what kind of man he was."

"You knew the guy was a psycho, but you used him anyway?"

"Would you have preferred that I turned him loose on the Commonwealth?" Father snapped. "At least keeping him on a short leash kept the collateral damage to a minimum. In return for his services, Institute technology prolonged his life, and his usefulness, far beyond that of any normal human. He never failed us, but his cruelty was always evident. It's no coincidence your paths crossed. It seemed a fitting way to allow you to have some amount of revenge." Henry's chest started burning.

"And what about your mother?" He gripped the bill of his cap to straighten it, for it had gone askew in his previous distress. "God, Shaun, she never got to see you grow up. Don't tell me you're okay with that, too!" Father folded his arms. 

"I'll never justify what my predecessors did, though Nora's death was… an unfortunate bit of collateral damage." Henry's face went red. 

_"Collateral damage? Is that all she was to you?"_ he shouted. "Shaun, she was murdered! For the love of God, at least _pretend_ like you care!" Father didn't flinch. 

"What would you have me say? The world has become a dangerous place... although, I think it always was. It's just a bit more  _ honest _ about it now. I accepted the situation and that was that." Henry's fists balled. "Regardless of what happened, it was a necessary sacrifice. The Institute is on the verge of some important breakthroughs. Your presence would be... appreciated as we approach them. Doesn't that intrigue you? Isn't  _ us _ what you want?" Henry gawked at him.

"You… You want  _ me _ , to stay here,  _ with you?"  _ he repeated. His voice was practically dripping with bitter venom.

"Is it that hard to imagine? The Institute can provide a better life than anything above ground. You've lived in the Commonwealth. You've seen what it's like. I assure you that you are better off with us." Henry shook his head violently. 

"No. Absolutely not." 

"I am only asking that you give the Institute…  _ me _ , a chance, to show you what I've been trying to tell you. We really do have humanity's best interest at heart. Won't you take that chance?" 

Henry's wrath riled again, but he was able to contain himself to a simple, trembling, "no."

Father sighed. "A shame. I had hoped we could work together, but every man must make his own decisions. I cannot force you to stay, should you choose to leave. Understand, though, I cannot force you to remain here. You may have safe passage back to the Relay, where you will be sent back to your Brotherhood, but from that point, you will be considered an enemy of the Institute. In this cruel world that has developed, those who are not with us are against us."

Henry took a step back, but Father took a step forward, in turn.

"Before you leave…" He pulled a glass vessel out of his coat pocket. "I believe this belongs to Doctor Virgil. A man should pay off his debts, no?" Henry's eyes widened. 

"How did you even-"

"All that matters now is that we clearly understand each other." Father turned on his heel to head back to the door through which he came. "The elevator will return you to the Relay." Henry stared at the dingy serum in his hand, then back at the closed door, then at the synth boy, who still stood there, inert. His teeth gritted, he pulled his cap tightly over his head until the brim nearly covered his eyes, and he whipped around on his heel to head back to the elevator. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing, y u no easy eehhhhhhhhhhhh


	18. Into Each Life, Some Acid Rain Had Got To Fall

_"Frederickson! Private Frederickson! You alive?" Ack-ack drummed in the very near distance. Henry's vision was bleary, and while he could make out a handful of faces yelling at him, he couldn't recognize any of them. The cold was so bitter, it burned his lungs, and the sky was so white, he couldn't look up with his eyes fully open._

_Another voice chimed in. "Sergeant, his arm's blown to bits." Henry only then noticed the burning pain in his shoulder, and he whined._

_"Private Johnson, send for the medic!"_

_"Yes, Sergeant!"_

_"You're gonna be fine, boy. You hear me?" Henry moaned. "Henry, you're gonna be fine. Henry!"_

Henry went to open his eyes, only to squeeze them shut when his eyes were greeted with a blinding light overhead. There was a shrill beeping in the background.

"Knight Henry, it's Cade. Can you hear me?" _Cade_? Henry forced himself to look up once the light was moved to see Cade's face.

"Where…?"

"You're in the Prydwen's sick bay. Can you try to sit up?" 

"Okay." Henry's core tightened, and he shifted to rise up from the bed. Cade didn't lie; he was back in the bay, back where he'd been a few days before for his head wound. Cade stood at his side with a hand on his back to hold him up. "How'd I get here?"

"You don't remember? You relayed back and fell unconscious, down in the airport. Do you remember anything from the mission?" Henry sniffed, fighting to recall. His head hurt, line of stitches on his temple stinging.

"Uh…" His memory of Shaun crept back to him, and his stomach churned. Then he remembered. He slapped a hand against the pocket in his uniform coat to feel for the holotape he'd recorded, and he looked up at Cade. "Yeah, I managed to get that data for Proctor Quinlan. Should I take it over to him, or...?" Cade shook his head and put his hand out. 

"No, I will. We're not entirely sure of what the Relay did to you to make you fall out like you did, so you need to stay here." Henry nodded airily, and he leaned back against the bed. A thought popped into his mind, and he rummaged through his jacket for Virgil's serum. 

"Okay, but I've got Virgil's payment, too. Can you get it to him, or should I take it to him when I'm discharged?" Cade's brow furrowed. 

"Oh, for the Mutant?" He hummed, and he took the serum. "I'll send it to him when I get a minute." Henry smiled. "Well, as soon as I make sure the Relay didn't alter you in any way, I'll send you out. Elder Maxson will want a full report on your assignment."

A few hours went by of sitting in the sick bay. Cade wasn't feeling very chatty, which was okay. Henry wasn't, either. At least he was allowed to listen to his radio, however quietly. It was nice to have something to block out the beeping of the EKG. He tried not to think about Shaun, but with nothing more to do than tap his foot to the beat of _Atom Bomb Baby_ , it was nearly impossible. 

He was released by four in the afternoon and was sent back to his quarters to file a report, but that was the _last_ thing he felt like doing. He trudged to his shared quarters with a few sheets of paper in his hand to see Danse laying in the bed. He wasn't sleep, but he jolted when his Knight came in. 

He shot straight up and swung his legs over the bed to stand up. 

"That was… awfully quick." Henry swallowed thickly, and he set the papers down onto the dresser. 

"Yeah, but I got what Maxson needed." He huffed. "I'm gonna have to borrow your desk for a minute. Do you have any pencils?" 

"Last drawer to the left with the drafting paper." Henry gave him a thumbs-up, and he grabbed a drafting pencil out of there before he leaned over the surface to start outlining. "You are unharmed, so I'm assuming your assignment went well." Henry paused his writing for a moment, but he continued. 

"Yeah."

His brain was fried, and he didn't know _what_ to write that didn't include Shaun. What was he supposed to tell Maxson about Shaun? He'd be his main target, and he didn't even want to know what kind of mistrust would spring up toward himself if anyone knew. But to lie in a report…

He thought for a good, long time weighing his options. He sighed, and he started outlining the story. Nothing about Shaun, nothing about Henry's relations to the Institute's director. It wasn't a _lie,_ per se; just… what happened with some unimportant details thoughtfully left out. No one _had_ to know, right? After all, a report was meant to be concise, with no unnecessary information included. 

With the outline finished, Henry wrote out the rest of the report: he found an unguarded terminal (completely true) in a lab with Virgil's serum, then relayed back out with a command on said terminal. Believable enough, right? Right. He gathered up his papers, levelled them on the desk, and gripped the door handle to walk out. 

Chowtime came and went, but Henry didn't eat. He just returned to his bunk after roll to read through his Book o' Puns again until Danse returned from the mess hall. 

"Elder Maxson read through your report," the Paladin murmured. Henry gazed at him. "Quinlan's Scribes have also started looking through the tape you brought back, however I've been told it has been badly encrypted. It will take a fair while before they find anything." Henry hummed. Danse's brow furrowed a little bit, as if to think, but he didn't comment on Henry's bluntness. Instead, he sighed a little bit, his shoulders declining the slightest bit; a release of the tension that had held them up for quite some time. "Well, I can imagine you are tired after a lone recon like that, so I won't take up much of your time. Proctor Ingram wants us back down in the airport immediately after breakfast to help her with a project, so rest well." The corners of Henry's mouth quirked up briefly, and his eyes flicked back down to his book.

He didn't sleep much, though he wasn't sure if it was because of his anxiety, or the fact that Danse was especially restless that night. Probably both. The bunk groaned and trembled every time he startled or turned over, and he mumbled feverishly. Henry, mostly out of his boredom, tried to make out some of what he was saying; it was mostly just the same few words, names. "Worwick" ended up being the clearest, and there were others, too, but Henry couldn't really cling to them. 

The thought to wake him up crossed his mind again, and he went as far as to roll to the edge of the mattress and peer over the edge. Even in the darkness, Henry could see his Paladin's chest heaving, and he only just now noticed the distinct reek of fear-sweat. It would have been cruel to just leave him in his dormant terror. 

He pulled his Book o' Puns out from under his pillow and reached down to prod his arm. 

"Danse," he hissed. Danse went completely rigid. Henry bit his lip. "Danse, wake up." A shuddering breath escaped him. Henry tentatively poked him again with the edge of the book. Danse's brow knitted tightly, then, more in irritation than fear, and he half-heartedly smacked Henry's hand away before he turned over to face the wall. 

Henry puffed, and he hauled himself back up to put his book away. 

He drifted off after a while, only to wake up to Kells's voice over the intercom calling all the soldiers to roll. After roll and breakfast, the two, as well as a number of other Knights, descended to the airport. The Relay was in the process of being scrapped, given its frame had been all but fried by the insertion. According to one of the guards, the control panel went up in flames when Henry warped in, and the scorch marks on the floor of the atrium stood as testament to that. 

Henry had to stand outside with the other Knights and Scribes on duty while Danse and few other squad leaders discussed their assignment with Ingram. 

There were five squads, consisting of two to four soldiers. Each one was sent out to a different medical center across Boston to search for magnets in the old MRI equipment. For what? According to Danse, Ingram was trying to rebuild a huge Pre-War weapon called "Liberty Prime," a forty-foot tall robot that chucked Mark 28 nuclear bombs at anything deemed a communist. 

"You're telling me this thing was supposed to be used in Anchorage?" Henry asked as he picked his way across the street. "I never heard about it!" 

"According to the documents recovered from the Citadel, construction was never completed in time, and was left to rot during the war," Danse murmured, leading the way into the parking lot. "It was only found fairly recently, and even then, it was destroyed soon after activation by the Enclave." Henry looked at him strangely. 

_"Enclave?"_

"Descendents of the highest-ranking government elites from before the War that sought to terminate anything they deemed _unclean_ from the Wasteland, including innocent people." Henry shuddered. "Krieg, God rest him, was killed in battle driving the Enclave out of Maryland."

"That's… upsetting." Danse snorted. 

"Indeed."

They stopped before the tall, imposing western wall of Milton General Hospital. Henry remembered the place from when he was a boy, and he knew it well. Back then, it felt like he was there once a month, either because of his mother or his stupid antics through which he would try to impress his friends. It felt like a hundred lifetimes ago, yet when he walked in at Danse’s heels, he could envision the lobby’s former layout exactly. It was in ruins now, obviously, with the stairwell near the lobby collapsing on itself, but it didn't reek quite like the rest of that wasteland. He couldn’t believe he missed the smell of medical grade cleaning agents, but he did. It was better than the stench of decay.

“So…” Henry started. “What does Ingram need those magnets for, anyway?” Danse scanned the lobby before he pointed his gun to the floor to speak to his Knight. 

“The strongest ones we can easily access were used in MRI equipment, and since Liberty Prime's frame is far bigger than before, she needs the best she can get." Henry hummed.

“So _that's_ why we headed to a hospital." He shrugged. "Let’s hope they still have some of those suckers here. Mass Bay Center's a hole.” He looked up at the directory, which pointed to the elevators just to the left of the door. “Alright, radiology’s in the basement. I guess we’ll take the elevators.” Danse nodded.

“You know the layout far better than I do, so I’ll let you take the lead, for now.” Henry gave him a thumbs up and led the way over to the elevators offset from the ED waiting room. “Not to play devil’s advocate, but are you sure the elevators work, still?” He nodded and pressed the call button.

“I can’t imagine why not. The one in Boston Airport was fine.”

They waited. The tone chimed, and the doors creaked open. 

“Thank God for self-sustaining nuclear generators...” he murmured, and he stepped in with Danse stuffing his armored self in behind him. The cab hitched before the doors squealed shut, and it began to descend. Henry's nose wrinkled at the smell of the elevator, and he squeaked when a tiny roach skittered across his boot. 

Danse gandered at it, his mouth twisted into a scowl. The cab's lights flickered, then went dark, and it stalled dead in its place. Henry’s gut churned. He didn’t need the lights on to sense his Paladin’s piercing stare burning into the back of his head.

“You said the elevator was functional!”

“Do I look like Ingram to you?” Danse snorted, and he looked around.

"It seems the roaches damaged the wiring…" A pause. “Turn your Pip-Boy on and give it to me.” Henry turned the light on before forking it over. Danse took it from him and shone the light of the screen up onto the ceiling to have a look at the hatch. He grabbed the handle, unhindered because of the height-boost of his armor, and pushed, but it didn’t budge. He swore a little under his breath, and he gave it a good punch. Nothing. He geared up and pummeled the fist of his gauntlet into the panel so hard, a notable _clang_ echoed up the elevator shaft. Barely a dent. He grumbled, disgruntled, and he handed the Pip-Boy back to Henry. 

“Should I set up a pulser, then?” 

“That would be best.”

Henry puffed, and he slung his pack over his shoulder to get at his distress pulser. Once he had it tuned and pulsing, he set it aside and tossed his bag down by the door. The hydraulics in Danse’s armor hissed as they unlocked, and he stepped out of the frame with a groan. He set his gun down to the floor and sat at the wall furthest from the cab door. 

“We might as well sit. I have a feeling we may be here for a while,” he murmured. Henry didn’t say anything. He just stared at the door. Danse shifted a bit in his spot. “Henry.” Henry twitched, and he glanced at him over his shoulder. “Are you well?” Henry nodded, and he turned his eyes back to the door. There was the signature squeak of combat boots scraping against the linoleum floor as the Paladin stood up again. “Did something happen during your mission?” Henry jolted. 

“What makes you think that?”

Danse nodded toward the joke book jutting out of Henry's bag. “I feel as if you’ve been struggling since your return from the Institute. You haven’t harassed me with any of your jokes lately.” Henry scowled. 

“What’s it matter to you, Danse? You hate my jokes!” 

Danse retained his composure, though the irritation in his tone was evident. “Besides the fact I never said that, you’re only proving my point.”

“How so?”

“You only call me by my first name when you’re cross.” Henry scuffed his boot against the floor.

_“And you hate it when I call you ‘Danny!’”_

“Irrelevant.” Henry’s face burned a little, and he turned yet again to face the door. “My point is that this isn’t like you. At all. What happened during your recon?” His fingers curled. His throat ached. He took a deep breath.

“I found my Shaun.” That croaking wheeze of an utter was barely audible, but Danse’s silence told him he’d been heard. “He’s not a baby anymore.” 

“Elaborate.” 

“He’s older than me, now, and…”

“And?”

“He… He’s the Institute leader, now…” A sniff. A tear slipped. Henry silently swore, and he smacked his forehead against the elevator door. “Fuck me, everything I went through was for nothing!” A sob. “Do you have any idea the shit that I went through to find him? How many fucking people I killed to get here?”

“Henry…” 

“I enlisted in this shamble you people call the army, _made a lifelong commitment,_ to get here, and what do I get? I get trapped in a fucking elevator with _you!”_

“Henry!” Henry shot Danse an icy, tearful glare. “You need to compose yourself and assess. This isn’t the worst situation you’ve been in. We’ll get out of it.” His fists balled so tightly, his knuckles cracked, and he whipped around on his heel to face his stone-faced Paladin.

“How in the _hell_ do you know that?!” he roared. Danse’s eye twitched a little bit, but he didn’t really flinch or falter. “How would you know _any_ of that?! Of course this is the worst situation I’ve been in! My wife’s dead, my son’s completely out of the question, it’s not like I even have a clean house to go back to! Everything I ever had is fucking gone!” He kicked the door with a cry. “I miss when the world didn’t smell like death! I miss when the Charles didn’t literally glow at night! I miss not getting shot at! I miss my wife, my baby, and my fucking car! And right when I thought I could get my son back, he turns out to be some…” He paused a moment to breathe. “...some power-hungry lunatic who I want nothing to do with! Yeah, I’m kind of _struggling_ right now, Danse!” When Henry received no reply, he pressed his face into his arm, against the door, and just sobbed, hiccuping like a toddler. 

In his hysteria, he didn’t notice the scraping of Danse’s boots on the floor until he gripped his shoulder. 

“You need to get a hold on yourself. Now.” That voice wasn’t raised, soft, even, but still stern. Henry rolled his shoulder. Danse sighed sharply and folded his arms. “Under circumstances like this, it's understandable that you are upset, but babbling won’t help, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t blame me for your problems.” Henry’s fists were still balled; he wasn’t sure why, but as Danse barked at him, he knew well his tension wasn’t out of anger anymore. 

“That’s not what I…” He puffed, and he dragged his sleeve over his nose. “I’m not blaming you, I’m just… I’m scared for him, alright?” Danse sent him a questioning look and cock of his head. 

“I thought you said you wanted nothing to do with Shaun.” Henry thought for a moment. 

“Well… I don’t, but… he’s still my son...” 

“Do you regret finding him?” He sighed and gritted his teeth.

“I don’t know. What I do know is that if he’s the Institute leader, he’s gonna be Maxson’s main target, and I don’t have a say in it.” Danse hummed. 

“I understand.” Henry sent him a weird look. Danse took a breath. “While it’s by no means pleasant, responsibility demands sacrifice. Even if you hate Shaun for what he’s become, he is still your son and your responsibility. You need to put an end to what he started. There's no way around it.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”  
  


“No. It’s to make you understand something that I had to learn the hard way so you don’t have to suffer for it like I did.” Henry went silent. Danse sighed again. “Listen, I don’t mean to bore you with my rhetoric, but what I’m trying to say is that…” A pause. “I empathize with your situation. Believe me, I do more than you can imagine, but I can’t be of any help to you if you choose to act this way. Do you understand?” Henry took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and righted himself before he nodded. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heheh, y’all remember the elevator scene. WELL IT HAS BEEN REWRITTEN HAHA! To think the whole fix was originally centered around it lol


	19. Atom Bombs, Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s this? The author is actually posting again? Wowee, y’all getting spoiled here!
> 
> I had a lot of fun and it’s a long one, so I hope y’all enjoy it uwu

"Well, that… could have gone smoother," Henry mumbled.

One of the other Knights snickered as they led him and Danse away from the hospital, "Hey, we've all been there, kiddo. You two got what you needed, at least!" 

Judging by his scowl, Henry knew well Danse wasn't pleased that they had to get cut and fished out of an elevator cab by his subordinates. They found another way to the magnets they needed, but it involved a lot of heavy lifting to clear out a collapsed hallway to the basement, and the whole procedure took way too long. Cambridge was nearby, so they at least didn't have to wait very long to be found.

They were only a few miles from the waterline, so by the time the sun was behind the skyscrapers to the west, they were back in the airport, and met with a bit of a change of scenery. In the formerly empty parking lot loomed a broad, steel frame with a number of Scribes welding it together. Scattered about the lot were incomplete actuators and massive circuit boards covered partially by tarps. 

In the center of the organized mess was Proctor Ingram, standing tall in her frame as she oversaw her scurrying Scribes. Henry thought that Ingram would be done with them for the night after giving her the magnets. He was quite sorely mistaken. 

"Well, unless you're blind as a bat, you've probably noticed that we have a gantry built up in the courtyard," the legless veteran grumbled. "We've brought in an expert from Diamond City who managed to get Prime's CPU working, and with those magnets the teams are bringing in, Prime's reconstruction should be finished in less than a few weeks, but he still needs his nukes." She then sent a hard look at both of them, eyes marred by bags. "We located a bomb disposal in the Glowing Sea, and we think there's a stockpile of Mark 28's in there somewhere, but my Scribes and I are stretched too thin go and get them." Henry's gut churned, knowing what was going to come next. "Since you two were inserted into the Glowing Sea before and survived, Elder Maxson insists you two go and secure that stockpile." Danse dipped his head in a nod before Henry could interject.

"So mote it be, Proctor. When will we be dispatched?" 

"Tomorrow, bright and early, Paladin." Henry bit his tongue. "After roll and breakfast, you'll be flown off to a checkpoint set up on the border to receive further orders. Questions?" 

"No, Proctor." He looked at Henry. "Knight?" 

"No, sir." Ingram smirked. 

"Then you're both dismissed. I think dinnertime just started up in the mess hall, so get your asses up there before the kitchens get cleaned out."

Henry wasn't especially hungry, and he initially was just going to head back to his quarters to go back to sleep, but when he tried to split off, Danse physically stopped him by grabbing his arm.

"You can't keep skipping meals like this." Henry huffed.

"I just wanna go to bed, man. I'm not hungry." Danse didn't sway. 

"Your emotions shouldn't dictate your appetite in the wastelands. I don't want you to get killed tomorrow because you were weak from hunger." Henry pulled his arm out of Danse's grip. Danse sighed sharply. "You are coming with me, and you are going to eat." Henry glared at him.  _ "Knight, that's an order."  _ He sighed, and he trailed after him into the mess hall.

He tried not to think about Shaun, but there wasn't much else to think about that didn't depress him. He still missed his doo-wop, he still missed his dog, and by golly, he still missed Nora. He stared at his dinner. The brahmin stew was as disgusting as ever, flavorless, full of gristle, but Henry knew well that Danse's orders were non-negotiable, so in spite of how sick he felt to his stomach, he ate some anyway. 

They were dispatched the following day, November 22nd, to Waypoint Echo, a little checkpoint right on the border of the Glowing Sea. He felt a little better that morning, but the dread of heading back to the most dangerous area in the Commonwealth outside of the Institute, stuffed into a suit of Power Armor like a sardine, didn't fade with his sickness. He didn't eat much more than a few bites of his breakfast, too queasy, even though Danse occasionally ridiculed him for not eating. 

The vertibird touched down in a snowy field not far from the piles of sandbags shielding the outpost atop a hill overlooking the Sea. Yellow-green lightning flashed in the distant smog and sent thunder rolling across the plain. The Knights watching over the place didn't seem to mind that, though, nor were they especially talkative. Henry didn't care much, and any semblance of care he had regarding that dissipated completely when Dogmeat suddenly bounded over the sandbag wall. 

_ "Dogmeat!"  _ Henry cried. Dogmeat nearly toppled his armored master over, and he went down to the ground on his back, snarfing and squealing with joy. Henry completely abandoned all professionalism whatsoever, threw his helm down to the ground, and began utterly smothering the Shepherd's face with kisses. 

"Sirs, you're here!" Henry looked up for a second to see Haylen come jogging over from a computer terminal set up nearby, and he grinned. 

"Haylen! Long time, no see!" He stood up. Dogmeat growled a little at that, but his tail started waggling again, and he went trotting over to Danse to greet him. Danse let a little smile slip as he gave the dog a quick pat before his focus shifted back to Haylen. 

"Scribe." 

Haylen saluted him. "I won't take up much of your time, sir. Please, follow me, and I'll show you your orders." Henry was allowed to sit and play with Dogmeat while Danse and Haylen went over the procedure, so he leaned up against the sandbags and let Dogmeat pelt his face with his tongue.

"I was told we were being sent into a bomb disposal. Do you know of its exact location?" 

"Yessir. I have the coordinates written down… here." Haylen pulled a paper out of her cargo pants's pocket to hand to him. "Your Knight has a Pip-Boy, according to the records I was given, so you should have no problem finding the place." She then leaned to pull a distress pulser up from under her computer's stand. "You'll need this, too, sir. If you find the Mark 28 stockpile within the facility, set up this pulser's frequency  _ like this-"  _ she gestured to a position of the dial on the side, "-so we know we're in for a high-yield retrieval. If you find nothing there, just set it up normally, and we'll send a single vertibird out to haul you two back to the Prydwen."

"Very well."

Dogmeat whined and flopped down onto Henry's lap, to which Henry ruffled the dog's ears and baby-talked him. 

_ "Who's the goodest boy in the whole wide world? Who's the goodest boy? Yes, you are, fluffy-butt!"  _ He received some… strange looks from the Knight standing guard nearby, but he didn't pay it much mind. What  _ did  _ make his relentless belly-rubbing cease was when he heard Danse break the silence between him and Haylen with a hushed question.

"Have you been faring well, Haylen?" 

"Yessir. It hasn't been the same at the station without you, but we're in good hands with my new C.O., now that we finally have a reliable source of supplies from the Prydwen."

"Outstanding." A pause. "How have you been since…?" Henry peered over at them, a brow raised. Haylen's face was uncertain at first, but was quick to compose herself. 

"It had to be done, sir. I've gotten over it."

"Good." He cleared his throat, and he pressed his armored shoulders back in a proper stance. "Well, if that is all, my Knight and I will be on our way, then." Haylen saluted him again. 

"Good luck, Paladin. _Ad_ _Victoriam_."

" _ Ad Victoriam,  _ Scribe."

Haylen called Dogmeat back to her, and after they took their Rad-X, Knight and Paladin went trekking down the hill, into the Glowing Sea. From the ground, the space between clouds of radiation and (relatively) clean air seemed like a fine, narrow border that followed along the overhanging highway above them. The ceaseless clicking of their Geigers' were muffled by the rumbling thunder and the winds whipping past them. 

Henry had to keep looking at his Pip-Boy's map to make sure they were headed the right way, to the southwest. There wasn't much out in the Sea, too brutal and cold for any sizable thing to go unnoticed, and the stark contrast from the snow helped, but they both knew better than to let their guards down. The sliding sediment made countless dunes of dirt, building debris, and whatever else was there when the bombs hit, forcing them to clamber over each hill without much grace. Even Danse, who was always sure-footed, had trouble hauling himself up once or twice. 

Up one particularly steep dune, Henry peaked first, and he stood upon the summit in wait for Danse to catch up. While he waited, he quickly scanned the immediate area below, out of habit,  _ Righteous Authority  _ drawn up against his shoulder. A little bit of movement caught his eye, one-hundred or maybe two-hundred yards away. A broad back, lined with spikes, surged up out of the fog before dipping back down. He frowned and squinted to get a better look. The form slunk around in the dirt, still unrecognizable. 

A gust of wind suddenly howled, blowing the gathering fog in the small valley away from the form for a moment to reveal it in full; a bipedal reptilian with a pair of ovine horns curving from its brow, and a long, crocodilian tail at its rear keeping it upright. He'd never seen its like before, not preceding or after the war, and he silently signalled Danse when he reached the peak of the hill. 

Danse looked, and instantly hit the dirt with catlike silence, pulling Henry down with him, hand on the back of his helm.

"What is that thing?"

_ "Deathclaw _ ." Henry did a double-take, recalling the name of the monstrous animal Haylen described to him, and he gazed back down at the hulking lizard lurking in the ravine. "It doesn't see us."

"Are you sure about that?"

"If it knew we were here, we would be dead already. Be quiet." Henry shut his mouth, and they both watched it, perfectly still. The thing dug around a bit in the sediment, growling and snuffling for fauna on all fours, tail wavering like a cat on the prowl.

About fifteen minutes of absolute stillness went by before the Deathclaw righted itself on its hindlegs and went slinking to the east. Danse waited for a while after it disappeared from view before he finally let Henry get back up. 

"We need to be more careful. We're not suited to take one of those things on." Henry followed him down into the ravine and back up the hill. 

"Are those  _ Deathclaws,  _ or whatever they're called, really that bad?"

_ " _ I'll put it to you as Krieg put it to me;  _ ' _ If you're thinking of hunting a Deathclaw _ , don't.  _ That name isn't honorary. Return to base, forget about it. You will live longer.'" Henry snickered, morbidly amused, and checked his Pip-Boy. The area started to flatten out, and they only had a mile or so between them and the facility.

"Fair enough, but what if I run into one like we almost did back there? There's gotta be  _ something _ that can kill them." Danse snorted. 

"Never underestimate the Deathclaw," he said. His voice was growing stern. Henry anticipated the oncoming lecture mode with a smirk hidden by his helmet. "If you have no other choice, aim for its knees to slow it down, then put as much distance between you and it as quickly as possible, without engaging it further. Even then, chances of surviving a one-on-one fight are slim, Power Armor or not, so be vigilant for them at all times."

"Duly noted." 

As they traversed closer and closer to the site, a pyramid-looking structure began revealing itself from the green-gray veil. There was a chain-link fence surrounding the place, but it was practically crumbling, and took little effort to kick down and walk over. 

Henry looked up at the imposing structure as Danse muscled the front door open. He didn't know why, but the sight of the building made him shiver. There wasn't much time for him to ponder on it, because Danse managed to open the door and called him over to cover his rear. While the building was tall from the outside, it was considerably bigger within, spanning several stories below the earth. A massive, metal pillar stood firmly in the middle of the chamber between the ceiling and floor. The soldiers stood at the top, behind a railing that allowed them to peer down into the facility. There was movement at the very bottom of the shaft at which they both cursed; Ghouls, and a lot of them, scuttling around on the floor. Alarms blared and advisory lights flashed vibrantly on each wall, so their forced entry had gone unnoticed.

"Now, how in the holy hexadecimal did those guys even survive long enough in here to turn into Ghouls in the first place?" Henry mumbled. 

"It doesn't matter how or why they're here," Danse stated over the alarms. "We have the high ground, so shoot whatever ones you can from here, and we'll exterminate the rest when we get down there." Henry shrugged.

"Copy that." He stepped up to the railing to take aim. There were seven or eight Ghouls lounging about on the floor, and they both caught two by fatal surprise before the rest scattered. They strode along to the left of the shaft, down towards a door that led into a control room. It wouldn't open just by being pushed, and instead opened with the push of a button just to the side of the panelling. 

Danse hummed. 

"It seems the disposal has been converted into a launching silo, as well." Henry huffed. 

"Looks like we hit the lottery, then. A launching silo's bound to have some goodies for Ingram." 

"Here's hoping."

By that logic and the blaring, it would have seemed the facility staff was in the middle of a launch, but never finished the procedure, maybe due to the blast on October 23, 2077. Henry shuddered at that, and he pushed the thought to the backburner. 

They hit the bottom of the silo before long. There, they were blocked off from the rest of the facility by a sealed door, but Henry only took a minute to override the launch sequence from the nearby computer. All things considered, he was just glad to have shut up those alarms, as they were getting to be grating. Of course, the door squealing open also let the remaining Ghouls know where they were. 

They came scrabbling towards them, screaming with their arms up, away from their sides. Danse blocked the doorway and started shooting the four of them down, one by one. 

Henry peered over the computer's desk to see three stop dead and fall over, but one of the Ghouls managed to dodge every round. It threw itself into the room, onto Danse's shoulders with a shriek and started banging on his visor with its fists. Danse swore furiously and tried to rip the heathen off of him, but he couldn't get any leverage on the thing. 

Henry scrambled for his rifle and took aim, shaking, trying to train his sights away from his Paladin's head. 

"Danny, hold still!" he shouted. Danse went rigid, but still held the Ghoul off of his face, just long enough for Henry to fire at the back of its head. The Ghoul's skull exploded, and Danse threw the carcass down.

"Godless bastard…" he grumbled, and he cleared the blood splattered on his visor. Henry lowered his gun and came out from behind the desk after he checked for any other mutants. 

"You okay, bud?" Danse gave him a nod with a hum, still cleaning off his helmet. "After you, then, Pretty-Boy." Danse scoffed a little bit, but he didn't heed his clownish Knight much, and he led the way into the empty silo. Even through Henry's helm, the smell of radiation burns and rot was just about unbearable, and it had him gagging if he took too deep a breath. 

The hallways on the other side of the silo were tight, obviously not designed for soldiers wearing tanks for armor, and they had to file through one at a time. The facility's halls ran even deeper below the launching chamber, down into offices and bunkers where more Ghouls stirred. 

Three came running out of a side room a few meters down from the silo, screaming and flailing as they charged the intruders. Henry held his gun up with the safety switched off, but he wasn't really able to aim at anything because of the restriction of the narrow hallway. Danse grabbed one by its face as they swarmed him and smashed its head into the wall, then went for another. A third wriggled past him and went straight for Henry. Its frail, chewed-up legs failed it when it leaped for him, and Henry put an end to it with a shot to the back of its head. The hallway reverted back to eerie silence, save for the echo of the gunshot. Henry huffed, and he nudged the fallen Ghoul out of his path so he could follow after his Paladin. 

"I can't help but feel bad for them," he said. "The Ghouls, I mean." Danse's stride stiffened a little, but it could have been because he just stopped to peer around the corner of the wall. Henry almost thought Danse didn't hear him, for he took a long time to reply. 

"Don't. Killing them is a mercy after they turn feral."

"No, just, I mean… Do you think it hurts?"

A sigh. "Pity for the enemy will only get you killed on the battlefield. Just don't think about it." Henry frowned, but he didn't retort. 

"Fair enough, I guess."

The halls twisted down, ever further underground, and they were eventually spat out into a wide room. A number of painted steel crates were stacked in the corners, one or two containing deconstructed bombs. There were two doors in front of them when they entered; a small one upon a platform in the western corner, and a far larger one just next to it, rusted and painted with a chipped coat of red. Hazmat signs were plastered all along their frames. 

Chances were, they had their bombs.

A face suddenly and briefly appeared in the window of the little door, then quickly sucked back. They both silently noticed the man, and Henry was immediate to recognize radiation burns on his face.

Of course, it had to be a Child of Atom. 

"This ought to be fun, eh, Danny?" he murmured. Danse didn't take very kindly to Henry's sarcasm. 

"With those bombs so close, this is no laughing matter. If he turns hostile, don't engage with your gun. We won't survive a high-yield nuclear explosion at point blank, no matter  _ how  _ you look at it." Henry hummed, and he followed him up to the door. They both peered in, and Henry almost fainted when he spotted an Assaultron standing just a few feet in front of the door. The Child of Atom was nearby, watching them, a hand on the gun holstered on his hip .

An idea came to Henry's mind, and he put a hand to Danse's shoulder. 

"Lemme take the lead with this guy." Danse stared at him. "I might be able to talk him down. That Assaultron would have gone nuts by now if he was unreasonable."

"I don't think you understand just how  _ unreasonable  _ the Children of Atom are." Henry couldn't see Danse's face, but he could feel the annoyance burning through his visor.

He snorted a little, slung his gun over his shoulder, and went to open the door. "With my incredible charisma, we'll be fine. If I'm wrong, you can beat me over the head when we both go to hell." 

He strode in before Danse could retort and immediately started out with an easy-going, "Hello!" The Child's brow hit his hairline.

"You encroach on Atom's hallowed ground, and you have nothing more to say than a  _ hello?  _ What is your purpose here, wastelander?" Henry's toes curled in their boots when the Assaultron, with the words  _ Atom's Wrath _ painted on its core, pivoted to size him up. Danse's safeties clicked off. 

"We're just looking for Mark 28's. We didn't know anyone was in here, place looked empty from out front." The Child scowled. 

"You trivialize that which resides here, wastelander. This place is holy." Each word was a deadpan, and soft, but the anger boiling below the surface was self evident in how his fingers twitched. "The Children of Atom have sworn to watch over this place until Atom's return, and His touch upon the earth with bring about the Divide. His Glow will spread, It will illuminate, and It will birth infinite worlds within us all. I will not allow common fingers to lay upon His holy tools." Henry sniffed.

"Well, lucky for you, we're on your side. We're here to help with that."

The Child's scowl darkened. "Atom has no need for the help of heretics. When He returns to us, His Relics will carry His Word and His Glory to all corners of the world. That is why they must be safeguarded now." 

Henry took a deep breath to think. "We want to spread his… um,  _ glory _ , but without his  _ relics _ , we can't do that. They'll get used, isn't that what we want?" The Child folded his arms, and he looked back at the idle  _ Atom's Wrath.  _ His foot tapped against the concrete floor, and he smirked. 

"If… you would see to it that these Relics are used, then Atom's will is done." He stepped back, and he inched over to a little computer terminal he had set up in the corner of the room. "I will open the gates to His sanctum, and you may enter." Henry let out a tense breath he didn't know he was holding, and he waited for the screeching of the steel doors before he dipped back out. 

The chamber wherein the bombs were held was expansive, long walls lined from floor to ceiling with Mark 28's. Henry's Geiger was clicking away to the point it was irritating, and only reminded him more of the sickness he was going to endure later on when Cade would purge him with Rad-Away. He pulled the pulser out of his travel bag, and he handed it to Danse to set up.

"I do not know what kind of nonsense you were prattling off to that zealot, but you did well in getting him to believe you." Henry perched his hands on his hips and smiled. 

"Hey, I like nonsense. Gets my brain cells on their toes, y'know?" Danse paused in tuning the pulser for a second to look at him before he returned to what he was doing.

"Henry, I was certain you had no brain cells  _ left _ ." Henry snorted. 

"Jeez- _ Louise _ , what crawled up your behind and filled you to the brim with salt?"

"Nothing. I was simply speaking the truth."

Henry barked a laugh, "Paladin Pretty-Boy has returned fire! It is war! Lethal force engaged!" He cleared his throat. "If you were any more square than you already are, you'd be a brick!" Danse huffed a little; the very semblance of a chuckle. 

"I am deeply hurt. My disappointment in you is immeasurable and my day is ruined. How could you?"

Henry clapped in his gauntlets with a hoot. "Where is this coming from? You're on fire today!"

"You're ridiculous."

_ "You're  _ draconian."

With the beacon tuned and pulsing, all that was left now was the wait. They headed back out to the room before the storage chamber to rest and keep an eye on the bombs. They sat across from each other, Henry's radio playing  _ Atom Bomb Baby  _ while they lounged on the floor. Henry pulled his bag up to his lap and rummaged through for the bottle of Rad-X and his canteen. 

He took his two pills, downed them with a mouthful of water, then passed the drugs over to Danse for him to take. He accepted the bottle, set it to the side to take his helm off, then went on to take his dose. Henry hummed along and tapped his foot to the beat of the music. 

"What do you think of Scribe Haylen?" 

Henry jolted at the sudden break of wordlessness, and he looked up from his Pip-Boy at his Paladin. "Haylen? I don't know her too well, but she's darn good at what she does, from where I'm standing." Danse nodded. 

"That's good to hear you think well of one of my trainees, but I wasn't looking for an evaluation of her performance as a Scribe. I wanted to know what you thought of her  _ as a person _ ." Henry raised a brow, and he turned his radio's volume down. 

"So, there  _ is  _ a heart beating under all that armor, after all?"

Danse rolled his eyes and mumbled, "I suppose I deserve that," then continued, "I prefer not to have these discussions, but… I worry about her. Since you and I are getting along so well, I felt I could confide in you about it, to get your opinion." Henry shrugged. 

"Shoot, bud. I'm all ears."

"Thank you." A pause. Danse stared at the ground for a moment to gather his thoughts before he started. "A few months before you found us in Cambridge, one of my Knights, Worwick, was wounded badly by raiders. Haylen stayed by his side for two days straight, without sleep, fighting to keep him alive, but he was on a slow decline." He looked down at his canteen and swirled the water around with a flick of his wrist. "I decided his suffering needed to end, and I ordered Haylen to administer an overdose of painkillers so he could die with his dignity intact." Henry bit his cheek. 

"Are… you asking whether or not I approve? Because I'm not sure if I'm the one you should be asking." Danse shook his head, and that lecture-mode look hardened his face. 

"Absolutely not. I stand by every order I've ever given. Worwick was gravely wounded, and even if by some miracle he were to survive, he would have been paralyzed for life, but my decision to ease his pain isn't the point here." He paused yet again. His fingers tapped against his knee within their gauntlets. "Haylen approached me while I was on watch, later that night. She didn't say a word, but I knew what had happened to Worwick had… troubled her. After a while, she fell into my arms, crying. I… was unsure of what to do with her, so I just… held her." Henry listened intently, and he groped for the volume dial on his Pip-Boy to turn the music off entirely. "She calmed down after a minute, kissed me on the cheek, and just headed back into the station, like nothing happened."

Henry's foot tapped idly while Danse again tried to gather his thoughts.

"Right then, it occurred to me; I pushed her too hard. I ordered her to ignore her instincts and do something her medical training told her was wrong. That's why I'm worried about her, and for that matter, everyone under my command." Henry's brow knitted. 

"This isn't about Haylen, is it?" Danse frowned. 

"What? No, I just…" A sudden look of realization flashed across his face, and he sighed. "No, no, you're right, I..." He puffed. "Look,  _ four  _ soldiers,  _ over half of my recon team _ , are dead. Each of them died because of individual decisions that  _ I made _ . We all understand the risks that come with the job, but I don't even know how any of my subordinates can have any respect for me anymore." 

Henry wasn't sure of how to respond to that. How could he? Whether it was because someone as stone-faced as Danse had puked his personal insecurities into his unsuspecting Knight's lap, or simply because Henry was a bit of a simpleton, he wasn't entirely sure. Regardless, he wasn't about to leave him hanging.

"Well…  _ I _ think you're pretty great, if it helps."

Danse smiled a little. "I… It does, I suppose." Suddenly, his expression neutralized again. "A-all unprofessionalism set aside, I appreciate you took the time to allow me to get that off my chest, even in the face of what you're going through right now."

"Hey, if you need to vent, it's no problem. I don't mind." 

"Thank you. It's comforting to know that I can speak to you as more than just your commanding officer." Henry gave him a thumbs-up.Then a stupid quip came to him, and he put on the sleaziest grin he could muster as Danse went to take a sip from his canteen. 

"So, does this mean you'll be there to hold me, too, if I ever needed it?" His dark eyes went wide, having more or less startled at that, and a bit of water spewed from his lips when he coughed. Henry howled. 

"I-I'm sorry!" he cackled. "Are you- Are you okay, bud?" Danse nodded, pressed the cap back onto his canteen, and secured it back onto his gun belt. He was a little flushed, and he looked to the side like a teen caught rifling through his mother's purse. Henry's laughter ceased in a slow realization, and he felt a familiar burn rise from his neck and into his face.

_ Shit. _

He pulled his Pip-Boy up and turned it back up to fill the silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AFFINITY CONVOS ARE HARDDDDDDD


	20. CHAPTER 20 LETS GOOOOO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG SPOILERS TO BROTHERHOOD QUESTLINE for the next few chapters. You have been warned so don’t bitch at me. 
> 
> This ones a bit rough because I should have done my schoolwork instead of this but MAMA IS GETTING HER SEA LEGS BACK, I PROMISE

Henry couldn't wait to jump into his bunk, and even though he didn't voice his exhaustion in front of his peers, he knew Danse wasn't far behind, judging by the stark bags under his eyes. Neither slept as they waited for the retrieval team to arrive, as to ensure the Child of Atom wouldn't act out. Said Child was later shot and killed after  _ Atom's Wrath _ was shut down. They weren't allowed to just up and leave during the operation, either, because they had to make sure no surprises were to come up. 

By the time they hit the flight deck, it was 1:34 AM, November 23, 2287. 

God, he couldn't even believe November was almost over, already. Thanksgiving was the next day, but none aboard the Prydwen seemed to care. No one talked about it. Back in his day, Henry recalled people talking about prepping for Thanksgiving a month in advance. 

He never really did much for Thanksgiving as a kid. After all, whatever money his mother didn't literally piss away in beer was used to buy things like instant ramen, and Fancy Lads' Snack Cakes, if he'd been good. He never even understood the charm of it until he met Nora, God rest her. He tried not to think about it, but he did, and what made it worse was when  _ Christmas _ came to mind. 

He remembered his first Christmas with Nora as clearly as the day it happened. He was twenty. She was eighteen. They'd known each other for two months. Henry had since cut his mother out completely. They were sharing an apartment in downtown Boston while she went to law school, her education fully paid for by her parents, who were living in her home state of Florida. 

The apartment they shared wasn't bad, but they didn't have much to spare after the rent. The only decoration they had to speak of was a two-foot tall plastic Christmas tree by the door, and they joked about it being as pitiful as the one in  _ Charlie Brown  _ as they curled up together on the couch, snow falling outside.

He always cherished that moment, but he didn't want to think about it anymore. Nora was long gone. Shaun was out of the question. His life was the wasteland now, under the command of the saltiest son of bitch he'd ever met. He wasn't really eager to drink to deal with it, as one of the other Knights had told him that Danse was a hungover drunk's worst nightmare, so his only escape from his post-nuclear nightmare anymore was sleep. 

Per his luck, of course, when they strolled into the Prydwen's command deck, they were stopped by the Elder. Henry was so tired at that point that he wanted to kill everyone on the ship and then himself. Regardless, they both saluted him the moment they saw him approach them from the bridge.

"Knight, Paladin," he greeted. "Good to see you both return safely." Danse dipped his head. Henry did nothing, too tired to care. "If you would follow me, I would speak with you both personally regarding your reward." He turned on his heel and waved for them to follow, so they trailed their Elder back onto his deck. His stride stopped dead at the window overlooking the airport below, and he took a deep breath. He didn't look back at them.

"I understand that you are both exhausted and eager to go to sleep, so I will not take much of you time," he started. "Your combined efforts in this war against the Institute have been so far unmatched. When the Brotherhood arrived in the Commonwealth, I would have thought it impossible for only two soldiers to change the entire course of a campaign for the better, and yet you both have proven me wrong, time and time again. I doubt that even I could have personally provided the Eastern Division a fraction of the amount of effort and devotion you have into our cause." 

He turned away from the window, and that deep scar on his face crinkled as his lips drew back in a genuine smile. 

"Lancer-Captain Kells and I have agreed that you both are more than deserving of a promotion." Henry's fingers curled, his brows raised, and he snuck a look at Danse, who remained as poker-faced as ever. "Paladin Danse, for your fifteen years of loyalty and your unfaltering courage since your deployment to the Commonwealth, I am promoting you to Star Paladin. See Proctor Teagan about your new uniform as soon as possible." Those steely eyes then fell onto Henry. "Knight, for your contributions that have saved the Brotherhood more than a year's worth of work and reconnaissance, I am promoting you to Knight-Sergeant. With your previous military experience, I think you are more than capable of training our deployed Initiates." He clicked his heels together and saluted them. "I am eager to see your future accomplishments. Now, go and get some well-deserved rest. Dismissed."

Henry didn't even bother changing into his nightclothes when he reached their quarters after they dumped their armor in the depot. As he lounged on his chest in his bunk, he watched Danse pull a nightshirt on by the dresser. His face hadn't changed since they came back from the Glowing Sea. Henry was sure it was because he was tired, but that one little part of him nagged at the back of his mind. He had to admit, that spit-take was the funniest thing he'd seen for a while, but he still felt bad. That thing with Haylen still had to be weighing on him.

"Danny." Danse perked up a little, and he turned on his heel, as if at attention.

"Yes?"

"What, exactly,  _ is _ a Star Paladin?" 

He looked down in thought for a moment, and he drifted over towards the bed. "Well, it's… it's a tremendous honor,." His words were slow to roll off his tongue, and his voice was hoarse, as if staving off a yawn. "The Star Paladins are made up of only the best, ranking between Paladin and Sentinel, which is only one step down from Elder. If there is no Sentinel appointed…" He eased himself into his bunk. "... then the Star Paladins take orders directly from the Elder himself, and are given a considerable amount of freedom." Henry hummed, but a thought then occurred to him, and he crept over toward the edge to look down at him. 

"So... if you're out doing stuff on your own, and I'm teaching the Initiates, I guess we're not really partners anymore, huh?" Danse's brow knitted a little. 

"I suppose not." His expression went neutral again, and he rolled over onto his side, to face the wall. "Sponsorships don't last forever. You know that. As soon as you're promoted from Journeyman Knight, you're on your own." Henry huffed. 

"Okay." He hauled himself back up to his bed, and he flopped down onto his back. A while of silence passed, and he was just dozing off when Danse broke the silence. 

"Henry?" 

Henry mewled a "Yeah?"

"I'm proud of you." That single phrase was very soft, so soft that Henry had to really think to process it, or even confirm that Danse had said it in the first place. He shrugged, smiled, and closed his eyes again. 

"See ya on the flip-side, Pretty-Boy."

Roll and breakfast came and went. Henry was directed to one of the Knight-Captains for his new orders. Said Captain was already quite busy, so Henry just was given a list of Initiates that needed to be trained to use Power Armor before they could become Knights. There were three he was to deal with that day, and they seemed competent enough at first. To use Power Armor wasn't hard to learn, from what he remembered in boot camp. Henry thought it was going to be an easy two hours.

Apparently, those three Initiates didn't agree with him.

One twisted an ankle and had to be sent up to the infirmary. Another seemed to start grasping it, but only after falling on his face because he tripped over a rift in the pavement. The remaining Initiate had trouble figuring out which way to turn the valve to open up the frame, and had only climbed in after half an hour of struggling. The two hours dragged on like a legless feral in the sun. The Initiates were sent to be with their sponsors, and Henry was left in the terminal to file an incident report on the one Initiate who'd gotten himself hurt. How, exactly, someone could hurt himself in Power Armor was beyond him. 

_ He just had to wonder how the hell Danse had this kind of patience. _

He stared blankly at his paperwork and sighed. Henry was no soldier; his place was in front of a computer screen, diagnosing problems and patching bugs, not on the front lines, fighting for his life with a rifle as his only friend. Well, at least he wasn't out, risking his neck on the battlefield. Knight-Sergeants were only sent out on patrols and the rare recons outside of Brotherhood territory, but…  _ still. _

The day passed on into evening. He headed back up to the Prydwen to eat, and honestly, he was looking forward to it; eating watery rad-chicken soup was far preferable to dealing with Initiates that would have surprised Henry if they could lace their own boots. He plopped himself down at his usual spot and started scarfing down his dinner, as he had to get his reports to Kells as soon as he was done, and he didn't want Kells to get his knickers in a twist over late paperwork.

His bowl was about halfway-eaten when he saw Danse stride in. He was out of his armor, yet he still stood tall in his new uniform. Rather than the orange and white suit from before, he was dressed in the fitted, black, silver-trimmed bodysuit of a high-standing Brotherhood officer. It was only the informal base uniform, but he wore it well. That man's godlike ass was as breathtaking as ever.

Henry watched him head up to the counter to grab his meal, and he waved at him when he turned in his direction. Danse dipped his head in silent greeting, but instead of heading over to the tables, he pivoted on his heel to head back towards the barracks. Henry frowned a little as he watched after him, and he looked back down at his dinner.

The next week was uneventful. What time wasn't consumed by training those Initiates and worrying about another incident to file was taken up by leading patrols around the perimeter of the base. Keeping an eye out for anything that wanted to rip his face off helped him keep his mind off missing Thanksgiving, but the grief still lingered. 

At least Danse had the authority and closeness to Maxson to not have Henry's sleeping situation changed when he was sheepishly asked. The other Knights were a rowdy and drunken bunch on Friday nights, no matter how much their Paladins scolded them. Henry recalled one being screamed at that he was going to be scraping rust off the Prydwen's hull. With a toothbrush.  _ From the outside.  _ And quite frankly, he found himself missing his partnership. He was happy for Danse, as he never saw him excitable, but the only consistent friend he'd made since Nora died was his Paladin, and now he was so busy, he didn't even sit in the mess hall to eat. If he wasn't organizing the lesser Paladins, he was either in and out of meetings with the Captains or eating while filing paperwork in his room to make more time for the former two.

Henry still pestered him at night with his Book o' Puns, though never got much of a reaction, other than dramatized irritation.

December 1st rolled around before he knew it. Liberty Prime was almost completely back online, its modulated voice thundering throughout the airport several times per day as Ingram's Scribes ran their diagnostics.

Henry had his three moronic Initiates comfortable with Power Armor by then, but only after trying to rip out his hair twice in frustration. He was glad to be allowed his newsboy cap at that point. 

A flurry was starting as he was lifted back up to the Prydwen that evening, whitening the distant sky until he couldn't see the imposing ruins just a mile to the west in Boston. He paced along the flight deck, towards the command floor to head up into the hull to do his paperwork, when he ran into Danse. The Star Paladin had a squad of five Knights, as well as a Scribe, Haylen, behind him. Henry went to wave, but caught himself, and he stopped to salute as they crossed paths. 

"Star Paladin." Danse paused briefly in his stride, and his Knights halted behind him.

"Sergeant. Everything going well?"

"Yessir." Henry gazed back at the docked vertibirds on standby. "Where are you headed, sir?" 

"Elder Maxson requested a reconnaissance of the Cambridge Institute of Technology. As soon as Liberty Prime is fully back online, we'll be leading an assault on the Institute directly."

"The war's almost over, Sergeant!" one of the Knights in the back declared. The others hooted in agreement. Henry cleared his throat and stepped out of the way. 

"I won't hold you then, sir. Good luck." Danse gave him a nod, and they passed Henry by. Haylen was the last to pass him, and she gave him a thumbs-up and a wide grin. 

"Congrats on the promotion, Henry!" she whispered. "I knew you had it in you!" 

Henry beamed at her. "Keep the big guy out of trouble for me, yeah?" She laughed, and she jogged to keep up with her squad as they loaded into a vertibird. He watched them depart, then went trudging up to the hull for chowtime.

He hated sleeping in a bed by himself to begin with, but without anyone in the room? A restful night wasn't easily feasible, he knew it now. Danse was going to be gone for a while. He sighed, and he hauled himself up into his bunk after he changed into his nightclothes. There wasn't much to do at night. All his paperwork was done. He'd read his Book o' Puns cover to cover, and he literally knew every joke in the book. He chuckled at that thought. There was another good one to throw Danse's way when he returned.

He turned onto his side, and he closed his eyes to drift off. 

It wasn't Kells's intercom that startled Henry awake. Rather, it was the door slamming open. Maxson was there in the doorway, and after he threw it closed at his back, he came marching up to Henry's bunk. 

"Elder-" Maxson heaved himself up, grabbed Henry by his wifebeater, and hurled him 

down into the floor. Henry hit the ground with a wheeze, and he scrambled to get to his feet. 

"You have a lot of explaining to do, Knight!" Maxson roared. Henry, still half-asleep, fell back down, and he hunched over to cover his face. 

"What's wron-" Maxson stomped up to him and yanked him to his feet. He was red in the face.

"Don't you play coy with me!" Henry shrank back in the Elder's death-grip. Maxson stared at him, cold fire burning in those steely eyes as they flicked about Henry's face in search of a hint of a lie. Henry was shaking, chest heaving. "How much did you know?" 

"Know _ what,  _ sir?" Maxson took a deep breath, and he turned to push Henry back to the bunk, away from the door. 

"Proctor Quinlan finished decrypting the holotape you retrieved from the Institute three hours ago. A portion of his findings included a list of synths that went missing or escaped from their facility." He paused. "Star Paladin Danse is a perfect match for one of the synths on that list." 

Henry choked. 

"That's…" He shook his head. "No, Proctor Quinlan made a mistake." Maxson scowled. 

"I can assure you that Proctor Quinlan has never been wrong before, and that the data has been confirmed by multiple sources. He would not have brought it to my attention if he was not one-hundred percent certain," he retorted. "The data you brought back included a record of each subjects DNA. We keep the same information on file for all of our soldiers. Star Paladin Danse's DNA is a perfect match for a synth designated as 'M7-97,' and to make matters worse, he's gone AWOL, disappeared without a trace from his post at CIT. His sudden absence simply reinforces our conclusion that M7-97 and Danse are one in the same." His fists then clenched. "And I'm finding it very difficult to believe that it never confided in you and then swore you to secrecy." 

Henry swallowed thickly and stammered, "Why would I knowingly work with a synth? T-the Institute took my family from me, I hate them more than anything." Maxson's frown eased at that, and he hummed. 

"Then I've misjudged you, it seems, and you've done nothing to betray the Brotherhood thus far, which means I'm taking you for your word." Henry relaxed a bit, only to tense up again when Maxson continued, "However, that doesn't absolve you from your duty. Danse is a synth, a physical manifestation of the monstrosities of technology we hate the most. Our mission in the Commonwealth is clear. The Institute and its creations need to be destroyed in order to preserve our future, which leaves me facing the most difficult order I've ever given." He let out a deep breath. "I want you to hunt M7-97 down, and execute it."

Henry finally found his words. "But-"

"You will do it, Sergeant. This is not up for debate!" Maxson shouted. Henry flinched. "I am giving you a direct order, and I expect you to follow it without question." Silence settled between them. Maxson gandered at Henry's face for a moment. Solemness tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I'm not blind to the fact that Danse was your mentor, and that this isn't an easy burden to bear, but, to remain strong, we can't afford to make any exceptions." He smoothed his hair back. "You're to go to Proctor Quinlan. He's been analyzing the data and should be able to provide you with a starting point for your search."

Henry righted himself, and he squeezed his fist over his chest. "Yes, sir."

The Elder turned, stepped out, and closed the door at his back. 


	21. I Don’t Want To Set The World On Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY HIT BLIND BETRAYAL WOOO

"Proctor?"

Quinlan's head piped up from the sea of paperwork surrounding him, his cat, Emmett, sprawled out at his side. 

"Ah, Sergeant." He cleared his throat, and he stood up from his chair. "You have my apologies about this business with the synth…" Henry dropped his travel bag and rifle by the door.

"What do you know about the situation, sir?" 

Quinlan snorted, and he pulled up a few papers. "I've been pouring over Danse's field reports, and unfortunately, I have not found any concrete information. As you are well aware, Danse was posted in the Commonwealth longer than any other unit and knew the territory well, and I'm afraid he could be seeking refuge anywhere." He handed the papers over to Henry to look over. "I've gathered every paper we have on him. Medical records, incident reports, everything. With those, we'll have to identify every location he has ever visited and eliminate them as possibilities, one by one."

He nudged Emmett out of the way to open up a drawer to pull out drafting paper and some pencils. "You may want to get comfortable, Sergeant. This could take quite a bit of-" 

"What the hell is this crap about Danse being a synth?" Henry and Quinlan both jolted, and they both beheld Haylen standing there in the doorway, out of breath as if she'd ran from Cambridge to the airport. Quinlan groaned. 

"I'm _assuming_ your outburst was a reference to some doubt regarding M7-97. I can assure you that my findings are quite accurate, Scribe." Haylen scoffed. 

"So, you set Danse up, and then you knock him down. Is that it?" she hissed. Henry looked at her. 

"How'd _you_ hear about this?"

"Maxson's made it clear to everyone that we locate Danse, and if we find him, report his location to you." She took a moment to breathe. "That can only mean that you're being sent to kill him." Henry huffed. 

"Scribe, watch your tone in front of the Proctor, please."

" _My tone? Who cares about protocol-"_

"Scribe Haylen!" Haylen snapped her mouth shut when the normally composed Quinlan hollered at her. "You are addressing a senior officer and you will show him the respect that he is due, or I will have you brought up on charges!" When there was no argument, he continued. "Now, unless you're here with information that can assist us, I suggest you return to your post immediately." Haylen pulled her hat off her head to smooth her hair back. 

"O-of course. My apologies, Proctor." She took a deep breath. "I believe I have some information that's relevant to the search." Quinland folded his arms. 

"Very well, then, would you care to enlighten us, or do we have to wait until you decide to grace us with your knowledge?" he spat. Henry raised an expectant brow at her. Haylen coughed into her fist, and she stepped towards the doorway. 

"Sergeant, if you would accompany me to the flight deck, I'd like to show you the information I've compiled firsthand. I've stored the data on my vertibird's computer." Henry nodded, and after glancing at Quinlan one last time, he trailed after Haylen. He walked alongside her, but to his surprise, she didn't head for the ladder to the command deck. Rather, she headed for the staircase into the lower hull. Henry didn't question her, as the guards were close by. 

She led him along the bridge beneath the main floor of the hull, and when they were alone, she stopped and took a deep breath. 

"Henry, do you actually plan on killing him?" 

Henry frowned. "Haylen…" She spun on her heel to face him, her face flushed and her eyes brimming with tears. Henry gaped at her.

"Henry, please, just listen to me." When Henry said nothing, she drew in a shuddering breath. "After everything he did for you, for _us_ , are you really gonna just kill him? Just because of who he is? I don't care what Quinlan says, I don't care if he's a synth or not. He's still our Paladin." Henry's lips parted, and ground his teeth until they groaned. 

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because someone needs to before you run off and carry out Maxson's orders without thinking about what you're doing," she pleaded. "Danse is the most selfless person I've ever met. He can be an ass sometimes, sure, but I've watched him risk his own life based on nothing more than principle alone. He trained me, he sponsored Rhys, and he took you in, a chem addict, even though it nearly cost him his position." She then grabbed Henry by his shoulders and shook him. "That's why I'm asking you, not just as a member of the Brotherhood, but as a _human being…_ Just give him a chance, let him tell his side of the story.

Henry looked at her. Then he looked at the ceiling. Then at the floor. Then back at her. Clarke's face suddenly flashed in his mind, tearfully asking _"Would you kill him just because of what he is?"_ Henry never could answer that with confidence, even after all the time that had passed since the incident. According to the other Knights, Clarke had since been exiled into the Commonwealth, never to be seen again. With how inexperienced the poor boy was, he was probably dead by now. He sighed. 

"Okay, fine, but I'm not making any promises," he said quickly. "Now, do you actually know where he is?" A look of relief crossed her face, and she released him.

"Not guaranteed, but I'm pretty sure I do. Before the Prydwen showed up, he had me identify a fallback point if we ever lost the police station. It was Listening Post Bravo, a Pre-War U.S. military outpost on the northern frontier of the Commonwealth. It's isolated, and he and I were only ones that knew about it, so chances are, that's where he's headed."

Henry looked down at his Pip-Boy, then offered it to her so she could put the coordinates in. She was quick to finish that, and so Henry started up to the main floor of the hull. He passed a few Knights on his way out, but he didn't say anything to them, or to anyone, for that matter, too focused on the hunt.

By the time he hit the outskirts of Medford, some miles outside of the airport, his Pip-Boy read 5:17 AM, December 2nd. _Righteous Authority_ was heavy in his hands as he hauled it along, and his shoulder hurt from carrying his travel bag, for it was stuffed to the brim with rations, ammo, and now, Danse's files. The flurry from earlier had picked up until most of his surroundings were as white as paper. He was grateful for the jacket Daisy gave him to wear under his uniform coat. At least that kept the cold out from his sore shoulder, but his toes were still going numb in their boots, not at all suited for snow.

At one point, the snowfall grew so heavy, he couldn't see more than ten feet in front of him, and he was forced to hunker down in wait for it to clear. There was an abandoned eighteen-wheeler on the side of the road with its trailer open, so he climbed in there to take shelter from the incoming blizzard. He wanted to turn the radio on, but he was alone now. Unnecessary noise wasn't an option. He sighed, and he leaned his head against the wall, tapping his gloved fingers on his legs to warm them up a bit. He then looked at his bag. 

In his rush, he didn't have the chance to go through the files Quinlan had given him before. He thought, his boredom and curiosity got the better of him, and he reached over to pull the reports out of his pack.

The first one he grabbed had "DN-407P MEDICAL REPORTS" stamped on it in red ink. The folder was thin, scarcely more than a dozen yellowed pages thick in total. He flicked it open and scanned through it. The first one managed to drag a bittersweet snicker out of him, as it briefly described the incident in which that Mirelurk broke an Initiate Danse's hand. Most of the others weren't very worthy of note; minor wounds and the like from battles over the past fifteen years, a sprained knee from a sticky Power Armor actuator, prolonged insomnia. Henry paused at that last one, and he scanned through more carefully.

  
  


File: DN-407P (Paladin Danse)

Date of Admission: April 24th, 2286

Date of Discharge: April 24th, 2286 [Treated]

Patient presented with an inability to sleep and a "dull, throbbing pain in the back of the head." All standard tests are negative. Evidence strongly suggests post traumatic stress disorder. Until severity of issue increases, recommend voluntary removal from active duty. Patient was informed, but has declined, and is currently in the field. Recommended an antihistamine, but patient declined for fear of residual drowsiness. Diagnosed patient with moderate post traumatic stress disorder. Will continue to monitor.

That didn't surprise him. Danse almost never slept, he knew that, but then it occurred to him that was probably just because he was a synth. He didn't think much of it, and he kept reading. The diagnosis was the last report before it cut off at when Henry figured his Paladin was deployed to the Commonwealth. 

It picked back up again in the year 2287, and to his surprise, the first one was dated in mid-November, scarcely more than a fortnight ago. 

File: DN-407P (Paladin Danse)

Date of Admission: November 15, 2287

Date of Discharge: November 15, 2287 [Treated]

Patient presented with symptoms including nausea, vertigo, elevated rate of respiration, headache, and inability to sleep. Patient explained he slept poorly for several consecutive days leading up to treatment. Standard tests are negative. Patient suffered from panic attack. Administered oxygen and instructed to return to quarters for rest, excused from the day's assignments. 

His frown deepened. There was one last report at the very back of the folder. The paper was fresh and white, dated for November 18, 2287. He thought for a moment, then remembered; the day of the insertion. 

File: DN-407P (Paladin Danse)

Date of Admission: November 18, 2287

Date of Discharge: November 18, 2287 [Treated]

Patient presented with short-lived convulsions. Patient hallucinated combat situation for approximately fifteen minutes following cessation of convulsions before regaining consciousness. Attempted to assault medical staff, was not successful. All standard tests are negative. Concluded that patient suffered from psychogenic nonepileptic seizure due to extreme emotional distress. Patient was discharged and excused from assignments to recover. Severity of prior diagnosis (see File: DN-407P April 24th, 2286) of post traumatic stress disorder has been updated from moderate to severe. Recommend _strongly_ for retirement. Patient was informed, but declined. Elder Maxson did not approve request to pull patient from active duty due to war effort and patient's unaffected ability in the field. Patient was prescribed sedative and discharged to barracks following full examination. 

Note: Patient has been asked _repeatedly_ to return for follow-up, but is non-compliant. Patient currently remains in active duty. Will continue to monitor.

Henry took a moment to stare at the paper, then dropped it back into the folder to shove the works back into the bag. He couldn't bear to read anymore. 

An hour passed. He heard the wind break, so he got up, gathered this things, and moved on. 

He walked along the border of northern Boston and worked his way up Route 90 before he split off to head further west. Based on what he could remember combined with the coordinates Haylen had given him, the outpost was in the heart of Middlesex Fells Reservation. While he initially worried about the terrain and trees making him miss something, it quickly became apparent that a majority of the vegetation had died off, so when he reached the summit of a tall hill, he was able to see the post, even from quite a distance. He scanned the immediate area for signs of occupancy, and when he found nothing, he went skidding down the hill. 

The front door was rusted open, and there was a busted Protectron laying face-first on the ground when Henry walked in. The post consisted of a small room, and he took a quick glance around, then noticed the elevator at the very back. He stopped in front of it and ran his fingers over the button pad. They were warm and blinked under his fingers. Still active. He took a deep breath, and he pressed the button. 

There was a pause. The elevator door chimed, and it opened to reveal a lightless cab. He stepped in, his stride light, and he flipped his Pip-Boy's light on before he closed up the cab. The descent was painfully slow, creaking and groaning down the shaft until the cab hit the bottom with a _cling!_

The room below was dank, but warm, with a few overhead lights to illuminate the place. It was silent. Henry drew out of the elevator, _Righteous Authority_ drawn up to the crook of his shoulder and ready fire. There was a hole in the far wall, just big enough for a grown man to squeeze through which some minimal light shone through, and he stalked up to it to peer around the corner of the breach, his back pressed to the wall.

There was visible movement. He moved a little closer to the gap to see more. It was Danse alright, sitting against the wall, rifle and travel bag leaned up against his side, but he wasn't right. Henry could see his hair was windblown and unkempt, one of his leggings was hiked up a little too far out of his boot, his uniform's collar was uneven about his neck, his armor was nowhere to be seen; things Danse wouldn't have been caught dead with on the norm.

He startled and scrambled to his feet when Henry's wet sole squeaked on the floor as he squeezed through. They faced each other, Henry with his gun up, Danse unarmed. Henry grimaced and hooked his finger over the trigger, but when he got a full look at Danse's face, he didn't squeeze. Those dark eyes held his gaze, then eyed the name carved into _Righteous Authority's_ stock, then sighed. 

"I should've known they would send you," he said steadily. "Arthur never was very keen to do the dirty work himself." That voice, while in perfect control, was hoarse, strained. Henry's stone wall crumbled immediately at that, and he lowered the gun to pull the strap over his shoulders.

"Why didn't you tell me, Danse?" 

"I…" Danse's voice cracked a little, and took breath to compose himself. " _I didn't know_ . If it weren't for Haylen, we wouldn't even be _having_ this conversation." He paused again, brow furrowing. His complexion paled. "I'm assuming Maxson doesn't want me taken alive." 

"No. No, he doesn't." Henry thought for a moment. "But… I'm hoping there might be a way out." Danse shook his head. 

"Don't be ridiculous," he flashed. "Listen, I know we're friends, and I can't imagine this any easier for you than it is for me." Then he let out a little sough. "But for the betterment of humanity, _for your safety,_ I need to be terminated. If you disobey your orders, you're not only betraying Maxson, but you're spitting on the Brotherhood and everything it stands for." 

Henry's jaw clenched. "The Brotherhood can stuff it. You ran from your post because you were scared, didn't you? That's human enough for me."

Danse stared at him hardly, then sighed, and he stepped forward to kneel. "I understand what you're trying to do, and I do appreciate it, but I've made my decision. Maxson has sentenced me to death, and I'm not about to stand in your way. I need to be the example, not the exception." 

"I can get you out of this-"

"No, you can't." He didn't look up. "This is the right thing to do. I won't allow you undermine our beliefs on my account." Henry remained silent. "Sergeant, I'm giving you a direct order. If you won't carry out Maxson's wishes, then I will." A deep breath. 

"No." Danse lifted his head to glare at him. 

"Henry, when Maxson learns you disobeyed him, you'll be executed, for sure," he hissed. "And for harboring a synth, no less, after what the Institute did to you... Why would you do that? It's senseless!" Henry knelt down to look at him directly in the eye. 

"I killed a lot of people in Anchorage, Danse, soldiers, with families, who didn't even want to be there. I never tried to reconnect with my parents. I stood idly by while my wife was murdered. I lied to Maxson about Shaun…" he uttered softly. "I've got a lot of regrets to my name, but I'll be damned if I let killing the only friend I've made in this hellhole be one of them."

Danse opened his mouth, as if to retort, but he said nothing, and he slumped. Henry tentatively inched forward, and when he received no negative reaction, he pressed a hand to Danse's arm. 

"I don't care what it takes. I'll get you out of this, one way or another." An idea came to him. "Look, it's snowing hard out there. If we go now, I can get you someplace else, and they shouldn't be able to follow us." Danse looked down at himself, dressed only in his base uniform, then shook his head.

"Assuming we won't freeze to death without proper winter clothing, where would we go?" he groused. "If there's one thing Maxson has in common with his forefathers, it's that he doesn't ever give up on the chase." Henry sighed sharply. 

"I-I'll figure _something_ out. I'll head back to the airport, say I did what Maxson said, then take off-base leave and come back for you." Danse stared at the floor. A long time of silence went by, dark, focused eyes perusing the floor under his knees as he thought. 

After what felt like an eternity, he sighed, and he pulled his dog tags over his head to hand to Henry. 

"If you're going to have any hope of pulling that off, give the Elder my tags, or he'll just send someone else to hunt me down." Henry took them from him, and he stuffed them into his boot for safekeeping. "Until the storm eases, I suggest you stay here. It's a long trip back to the airport." He quirked his lips up, and he scooted over on his knees to settle at the wall at his Paladin's side. 

"If you insist." He stretched, rubbed his hands together to drive the chill out of them, and he snuck a quick glance at Danse. The skin under his eyes was dark grey, their whites a bit reddened, and his face was so pale for his usually caramel tone. He was staring at the ceiling, dark eyes still, instead of the constant, suspicious flicking about. 

Henry bit his lip when he remembered the medical reports he read earlier, and he patted Danse's leg to get his attention. 

"Why don't you try to get some sleep, bud?" Danse shook his head.

"Not now." Henry rolled his eyes. 

"Danny," he elected, his tone bordering sharpness. "You need it." He nudged him. "I'm right here, bud. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you." Danse held his gaze again, but his exhaustion had him quick to back down. 

"No longer than an hour," he murmured, and he leaned his head back against the wall, eyes fluttering shut with reluctance. In spite of the fight he put up against his self-evident exhaustion, it wasn't long at all before his breathing evened out. 

Henry toyed around with his Pip-Boy for a few minutes while Danse snored softly at his side. He propped his head back against the concrete and yawned. He'd been up for most of the night, his eyes were heavy, and he had a long, cold trek back to Boston Airport that he wasn't looking forward to. A quick nap couldn't hurt, right? The listening post was out of the way of the common viewer, and the snowstorm was certainly helping to keep them out of sight. They had a few hours to kill before any brows would raise. He switched his Pip-Boy off and let out another yawn before he pulled his cap over his eyes. 

There was a moment of silence. Henry started to drift off. Then movement. Warmth pressed loosely against Henry's side. He hummed, made a face, then relaxed. He started to drift off again. Another twitch. Something leaned against his head and shoulder. One bleary eye opened, and as consciousness came rushing back to him, he realized that Danse was leaning on him, and likely had been for a while. Henry gingerly lifted his arm to look at his Pip-Boy. An hour and a half had gone by already. He huffed. 

It was time to wake the big guy up, but… Henry felt the warm, steady rhythm of inhaled and exhaled breath hitting his hair, slow and deep. Danse never slept this soundly. Another half hour wasn't going to kill them, was it? He sunk back into his spot and eased against Danse's shoulder, too tired to care. He didn't drift back off that time. 

The minutes ticked by. The lights flickered. The elevator chimed. Henry shot upright at that and stared at the elevator doors through the hole in the wall. Danse stirred from the sudden disturbance, then stood up.

"What is it?" he whispered. 

"Someone's coming." 

A moment of wordlessness passed. The elevator opened. Wordless, Henry got up. Each went for their guns as coated figure stepped out of the cab and drew into the light. 

_"Shit…"_ Henry breathed. " _What's Maxson doing here?"_ Danse said nothing. 

Maxson approached the gap in the wall, and he fit himself through. When he emerged and stood upright to show his face, he was utterly impassive, but Henry could feel that wrathful, steely-blue burning into him. 

_"Sergeant,"_ he gritted out. "Why have you not disposed of the synth?" Before Henry could respond, Danse stepped forward. 

"Elder, please, it's not his fault; it's mine-" If looks could kill, Danse would have keeled over from the glare Maxson shot at him. 

" _Quiet!"_ Danse shut his mouth instantly. "I will deal with _you_ in a moment." Henry took a deep breath, and he positioned himself between Danse and Maxson. 

"How did you even find us?" The Elder trained his sights back on Henry.

"When I issued the execution order, I suspected that you would have difficulty in carrying it out. It seems I had assumed correctly when the airport guards reported to Kells you left the base without notifying anyone. Now, _why is M7-97 still alive?"_

" _Danse_ is still alive because your orders are ridiculous."

_"Ridiculous?_ My _orders_ are _ridiculous?_ The fact that M7-97 _exists_ is _ridiculous!_ " he roared. "It wasn't born from the womb of a loving mother; it was _grown_ in a laboratory with DNA stolen from a host! By playing God, the Institute has taken the sanctity of human life and corrupted it beyond measure, and this synth that you are harboring is the physical manifestation of this." 

"After all I've done for the Brotherhood," Danse cut in, "all the blood I've spilled in our name, _your name,_ how can you say that about me?"

_"You,"_ Maxson snapped with a sharp stab of his finger, "are the physical embodiment of what we hate the most: technology that has gone too far." He then pointed up to the ceiling. "You've seen what it's like up there. We all have. Millions- no, _billions_ died because science outpaced man's restraint. They called it a 'new frontier,' 'pushing the envelope,' completely disregarding the repercussions!" Henry's face burned. 

"You think I don't understand that? You think I don't hate what the government did before the War?" he shouted. "I lost my family because of it!" He yanked his uniform shirt down to show the bullet scar on his shoulder. "I nearly lost my arm for their… _purposes!_ But do you see me crying about it, blaming him, an innocent bystander, for something he didn't do? No, you don't!"

"It doesn't matter. Just one synth isn't a problem, but M7-97 is only a single bomb in an entire arsenal, preparing to lay waste to the survivors of what his forefathers brought on."

"What reason do you have to think that? Everything he's done out here, he's done for you!"

"Oh, so is _that_ what it told you? How can you trust the word of a machine that thinks it's alive? A machine that's had its mind erased and reprogrammed… its very soul has been manufactured! The ethics it's striving to champion aren't even its own. They were artificially inserted in an attempt to have it blend into society. At the very _best_ , the notion is offensive!" 

"It's true." Henry and Maxson both gawked at him. "I might not be human, and some of my memories aren't my own, but when my Knights were killed, I grieved. When Henry and I purged the mutants out of Fort Strong, I was damn proud. And when I heard you give the order over that radio to come to the Commonwealth, I was hopeful." His fingers curled in his gloved palms. "Arthur, don't you get it? I thought I was human! And human or not, from the moment I was taken in by the Brotherhood, I have never _once_ betrayed your trust, and I never will." Maxson glowered.

"It's too late for that now. Regardless of your intentions, the fact remains that you should not exist." He then stared Henry down again. "Sergeant, my orders stand. Either you execute that synth, or I will." Henry puffed up and reciprocated the glare.

"Elder, after everything we've done for your Brotherhood, I think we deserve your unbiased attention." Maxson loured at him. "You said it yourself; our efforts saved the Brotherhood countless time, and resources in the war. Danse sacrificed _four_ _soldiers_ so your fleet could be here. It doesn't matter if you want to admit it or not; you owe him his life several times over, human, synth, or whatever else he is. Are you just going to let a debt like that hang over your head, _and have two of your soldiers killed_ , just because you're not man enough to admit you're wrong?" 

Maxson's scowl darkened, perched his hands on his hips, and he took a deep breath. "This is… sickening. Allowing M7-97 to live undermines everything the Brotherhood of Steel stands for, and yet you put your life on the line to stubbornly _insist_ that it remains alive." 

Henry straightened his cap, and he flipped his safety off. "So, then, we negotiate. Now, as to whether we do it like gentlemen is up to you. At this point, I'm good with both." Maxson snarled, scar wrinkling, but the classic look of realization crossed his face, and he stroked his beard under his fingers as he weighed his options. Henry's stance didn't falter. 

"You are a very stubborn man, and this is the most blatant and disgraceful display of insubordination I have ever seen." The Elder sighed, and defeat visibly weighed his shoulders down. "With the… presented argument, and a lack of damning evidence, it seems we've come to an impasse." He looked at Danse. "M7-97, as far as I am concerned, you're dead. You were executed by your own Knight, and your remains were disposed of." Henry's shoulders fell a little. He had him. "From this day forward, you are forbidden to set foot on the Prydwen, or speak to any member of the Brotherhood of Steel. Should you choose to ignore me, know that you will be fired upon _immediately_. Do we understand each other?"

The answer was a unanimous, "Yes, Elder." Maxson straightened his coat. 

"Good. Sergeant." Henry perked up. "I will be returning above ground. Take some time now to say your goodbyes. I expect you to join me in no less than half an hour. I want his uniform, his Brotherhood-issue rifle, and anything else on him that is Brotherhood property brought up with you. Understood?"

Henry dipped his head. 

"Yes, Elder." Maxson let out a gruff hum, and he turned on his heel to leave, only to briefly pause when Danse called for him. 

"Thank you for believing in me, Arthur." 

Maxson didn't answer him, nor did he look back. He stepped into the elevator, the door closed. When Maxson was gone and the room went quiet, save for the buzzing of the lights as they fought to stay lit, Henry's legs wobbled, and he expired until his lungs were so empty, they ached. 

"Oh, golly, I thought I was gonna faint when he walked in here." He stepped backward until his back hit the wall to catch his breath. Danse came to stand at his side. 

"It… it took a hell of a lot of guts to do that for me." Henry couldn't help but smile, and he nudged Danse's arm with his elbow.

"Well, it was worth every mini-heart attack, I'll tell you what," he jested. It fell silent between them. "So… are you gonna be okay here by yourself?" Danse sent him a look. 

"Henry, I am fully capable of looking after myself." Henry chuckled a little. 

"Smartass." His easy smirk fell. "All joking aside, that's not what I meant, bud." Danse took a moment to understand the gesture, and his expression hardened again.

"I can assure you that I'll be alive when you return, if that's what is worrying you." He cleared his throat. "Now, you'd best get back up there before Maxson changes his mind." Henry pushed himself off the wall. 

"Alright." A thought then occurred to him, and his stride hitched. "Uh, Danny?" Danse hummed. "You _do_ have extra clothes, right? I'm not leaving you down here, unarmed, in just your knickers." A nod.

"I do. Step out, and I'll give you my uniform." Henry gave him a thumbs-up, and he headed over to fit himself through the wall. Danse didn't take long to change his clothes. Of course, all he had to his name now was an old t-shirt with a collar so stretched, it was ripped, a pair of grease-stained jeans, and that denim jacket that Daisy gave him back in November. He hauled his Brotherhood gear through the gap in the wall to give to his Knight to return. 

He hesitated in giving it back, though, his grip tight on the neatly-folded leather suit. His brow furrowed, and he stared. Henry watched his expression turn sour, and when he set his things down, he cocked his head. He didn't have the chance to ask, for before a question could even come to his mind, Danse had practically thrown himself onto him, his embrace so tight, Henry could barely breathe. 

Henry thought to step back and away, but then he felt Danse shiver. He frowned. Then came a loud, drawn-out sniff. Henry gingerly looped his arms around Danse's waist, wanted to say something to soothe him, but he couldn't think of anything, so he just stroked his back. It wasn't an obnoxious exchange, nor was it long-lived. 

After he collected himself, Danse pushed himself off of Henry, took a deep, shuddering breath, and inclined to pick his things up off the floor. Henry took them, biting his cheek as the black leather rasped against his gloves. Danse kept his head lowered and turned so Henry couldn't look at him, but the brief glimpse of a tearfully reddened eye told him enough. 

Henry slung the rifle over his shoulder to hang parallel to _Righteous Authority_ and tucked the uniform under his arm before he gave Danse's arm a gentle caress. 

"I'll be back for you as soon as I can, Danny. I promise." 

Danse slumped for a moment, then righted himself, his brow knitting, and he pressed his heels together with a closed fist against his chest. 

" _Ad Victoriam,_ Sergeant."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maxson can kiss my ass, he was a little shit in 3, and he’s a psychotic bastard in 4.
> 
> I poured my heart and soul into this, so I hope y’all liked it. The story will start to divert from the original game after this, so if you’re not into that, I’m sorry, but I hope it’ll be a worth risk. And wow, 21 chapters! Thanks for sticking with me and my bullshit for so long! Makes mama happy ;u;


	22. A quick word, news, updates and junk

Hi, my dear readers! I just wanted to give y’all some updates about the fic and all that jazz.   
  


FIRST OFF: The story will be diverting from the original game’s plot line. Getting that out of the way first. I’m not going to spill any beans just yet, but I’ve had some mad pet peeves about how the game treated Danse after Blind Betrayal, and on Ao3, reality can be anything I want. Sorry if y’all don’t like that.   
  


Secondly, I’ve been struggling a little bit in real life. I won’t get into detail, as it’s no ones business, save for my own, but it seems that some of you actually enjoyed this thing that I cobbled together on a whim yesteryear, and I’d be lying if I said current events haven’t affected my writing abilities. You may have noticed a fall in quality in the previous few chapters leading up to now, and I do apologize profusely for it.   
  


I will be editing them to make dialogue and whatnot flow a little smoother so newer readers don’t have an aneurysm.   
  


As for new chapters coming in, I’m sorry if updates get to be a tad slow. I’ve got a lot going on and by the time I’m done with all that jazz, at the end of the day, I’m so tired that I just _can’t_. I’m not going on a hiatus, just don’t expect anything especially quickly from me in the coming weeks. I really don’t want to rush what I have coming up in the fic because, put simply, it’s gonna be _fragile._ I have poured my heart and soul into this fic, and dammit, I’m not gonna rest until it’s perfect!

I thank you guys for being so patient with me, and I WILL see this fic through because I love it too much to let it rot. Mama just needs to take it easy for a bit, and then we’ll be back on track. Okay? Okay!

I love you all, and I look forward to getting more chapters out to you guys. 

(hugs)

-Your Socially Awkward Author


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